


The Arrangement

by i_kinda_like_writing



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bullying, Coming Out, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mention - Freeform, Mentor/Protégé, Mutual Pining, Pining, Platonic Sex, Team as Family, but like actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_kinda_like_writing/pseuds/i_kinda_like_writing
Summary: Dex wasn't expecting too much out of his softie year at Samwell. All he'd really wanted was to get good grades, maybe adopt a tadpole or two, and not allow his feelings for Nursey to become too unmanageable. Dex hadn't thought it was that much to ask for.Of course, despite his intentions, Dex somehow ended up mentoring his tadpole in the ways of sex (he is not asex yodaso stop calling him that,Whiskey), stripping himself bare for his teammates in more ways than one, and platonically dating his best friend/unrequited love of his life.Why could things never just be normal?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! As anyone who follows me on Tumblr will know, this fic has been in the works for a long time! I posted a version of the first scene over a year ago with the promise that I wouldn't be continuing it, but I lied, and since about two weeks ago, having been working tirelessly on the fic you see below! Thanks to everyone on Tumblr who encouraged me as I lamented writing :)  
> I rated this mature due to some small scenes where things are vaguely described, but there is nothing explicit. There is a very small scene with some violence but not enough to contribute to the rating.  
> There are some trigger warnings, which are listed in the tags, but here in the author's note I will list the specific triggers to the chapter. This chapter’s **warnings** include: mentions of bullying, mentions of underage sex, minor violence, and internalized homophobia.  
>  Despite that, it really is (I think!) a fun fic, and I hope y'all will enjoy it! It is endgame nurseydex and whango, but Dex and Whiskey's friendship/mentor thing is a big part of it.  
> It's all finished and will be updated regularly, but for now, here is part one of four.  
> I should mention that this fic could also be (and was almost) titled “fucking tadpoles” for a multitude of reason. Anyway. Enjoy!

            “You ever fucked a dude?”

            Dex didn’t usually mind having Whiskey in his room. In his sophomore year, Dex had been blessed with a single, and though he liked having his own place to come back to, sometimes he missed the constant company he’d had growing up. A majority of the time, it was Nursey in his room, reading poetry out loud or provoking Dex into weird arguments about ridiculous things or talking in his sleep about things Dex tried not to listen to. Nursey’s company—for all that Dex would deny it—was nice, distracting when he needed it, engaging, fun. Comforting.

            When Whiskey was in Dex’s room, it usually meant silence. They’d work on their respective course loads, muttering curses every once in a while, share a commiserating look about how hard college was. Whiskey’s company wasn’t comforting, per se, but it was comfortable, which was different, somehow. It was soft and quiet and just enough that Dex could relax into it.

            And then Whiskey had to go and ask a question like this and fuck it up.

            Without looking up from his worksheet, Dex said, “I thought inappropriate out-of-nowhere questions were more Tango’s thing.”

            He heard Whiskey huff. “No, come on, I’m serious.” Dex nearly rolled his eyes—it wasn’t very often that Whiskey _wasn’t_ serious—but turned around in his desk chair to face Whiskey on the bed.

            “Why do you want to know?” Dex wasn’t really stellar at the whole “coming out” thing. Coming out back home was the kind of joke that hurt even after the laughter left your chest, and when Dex got to Samwell he’d been so used to not saying anything that he kept quiet out of habit.

            (Dex told himself that it never came up, but the truth was there were openings, and he just let them pass by because it was easier than trying to articulate his feelings. He’d never been much good at that, either.)

            Whiskey seemingly had the same problem. “Well, um. I just. Er.”

            “If you can ask me if I’ve ever had sex with a man, you can explain why you want to know.” Somewhere in the back of his mind Dex thought that maybe he should comfort Whiskey in his obvious time of awkwardness, but that wasn’t who they were. Blunt and direct was best, with them.

            Whiskey rolled his jaw and then huffed through his nose. “Fine. I, uh. There’s this guy. In my calc lecture.” He looked down at his hands, sitting in his lap. “He’s kind of, you know, cute or whatever, and he asked me out and I wanna say yes but…”

            “But what?” Dex watched Whiskey bite at his lip, eyes still unwilling to meet Dex’s. “Dude, just say it. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t care.”

            Whiskey glanced up. “Even if I killed his brother or something?”

            Dex felt his eye twitch. _These fucking tadpoles_. “Whiskey.”

            Whiskey sighed. “Ugh, fine.” His cheeks pinked up. “I’ve never… done that. With a guy.”

            Dex nearly rolled his eyes at how Whiskey refused to say the word _sex_ but he was supposed to be the helpful upperclassman in this situation, so he said, “Alright. That’s fine. A lot of people come to college without experience with that shit.”

            “Did you?”

            Dex winced. “Well, uh, no.” Whiskey wrinkled his nose. “But really, it’s not a big deal. If you actually like this guy, go out with him. Go on a few dates, see if you like him then, and let him know where you’re at.”

            “But I don’t want to—” Whiskey stopped, twisting his fingers into Dex’s bedspread.

            “Don’t want to what? Tell him you’re a virgin?” Whiskey’s frown deepened at the word. “Dude. You can’t not tell him. I’m not gonna go on about virginity and shit, ‘cause like, Shitty’s right, that shit’s a construct and ridiculous, _but_ it’s still an important thing. Like, emotionally and shit. You can’t just drop that on a guy.”

            Whiskey made faces at the floor for a minute or so before he said, “It’s not that.” Dex waited as he stalled further, contorting his mouth into various annoyed purses. “I don’t want to be—bad.”

            “Oh, man, don’t—everyone’s bad their first time.” Whiskey darted his eyes up and Dex knew what the question in them was asking. He rolled his own eyes in response. “Yes, even me.” Whiskey’s lips twitched. “But seriously, Whiskey, it’s gonna be awkward. Probably a little bit bad for one or both of you. Plus side, you get off and earn a little bit of experience, and hopefully next time will be better.”

            Whiskey shifted on the bed. “I don’t know if I want that. With him. Like, I don’t want him to see me like that. I want to be good at it before I’m with him.” There was a glint in his eye not unlike the times he’d been shown a new maneuver on-ice, determination and stubbornness and pride all on fire. Dex sighed internally. Of course the most competitive kid he’d ever known would want to be great at sex before actually having it.

            “That’s not how it works,” he said, trying to sound more exasperated than fond, but it didn’t quite come out right.

            Dex turned to resume his problem set but stopped when Whiskey said, “Unless…” Dex looked back at Whiskey, and now gears were turning behind his eyes, making connections and plotting something Dex was sure he wasn’t going to like.

            “Unless what?” he asked, apprehensive.

            Whiskey’s eyes refocused on Dex. His lips were curled at the edges, dangerous. “You never answered my question.”

            “What que—oh.” Dex frowned. “I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

            “I need experience,” Whiskey said simply, and Dex got it instantly.

            “ _No_.”

            “Come on.” Whiskey smirked. “I’m hot, right? Why not?”

            “Why not? Why _not_? You—you’re a tadpole, for one.”

            “We’re the same age.”

            “Only for another week.”

            “Still, age is but a number when we’re both legal.” That didn’t sound quite right to Dex, but Whiskey kept going. “If you’re avoiding the question for the reason I think you are, then you have experience. You can show me how to do it.”

            “Do it. _Do it_. I’m not gonna have sex with someone who can’t even say the word sex.”

            “Sex. Fucking. Hanky panky. Doin’ the do. Bumping uglies. Hiding the sausage. _Finding_ the sausage. Playing Tetris. Wetting the willie—”

            “Oh my God, _stop_.” Whiskey smirked. “Playing Tetris—what? No, you know, I don’t even want to know— _no_.”

            “I’m—sorry. I—” Whiskey’s lips smoothed out of the smirk and it left him looking vulnerable and soft. “I just.” He looked down at his lap. “I trust you.”

            Oh fuck. Dex looked at him, sitting there all dejected and sad and _trusting_. Whiskey didn’t trust many people. At Samwell, it was Tango and sometimes Dex and that was about it. The kid was even more closed off than Dex was when he first got here and from the little he’d heard about Whiskey’s childhood he understood why. He was scared, visibly, of this whole new world he didn’t really know about, and he wanted help. He wanted Dex’s help.

            Dex remembered Luke, even though that was a completely different situation. Luke, his captain and savior. Luke, who took everything Dex let him have. Dex remembered the smell of the sea, the rocks at his back as Luke pressed him into them, the sand slipping under his feet. Luke, above him, looming, grinning with all his teeth, mouth smelling—and then tasting—of the shitty beer everyone back home drank. It had been awkward, of course it had, sandy and fast and stifled because the rest of the team was just a little ways down the beach and being too loud meant destruction.

            Regret wasn’t exactly the word for it. If there was a word for it, Dex didn’t know it. Luke had been a bright spot in a dim world, and in the dark even the smallest of lights could seem like everything. With the aid of hindsight, and a year at Samwell, Dex could realize that maybe he wanted it to have happened a different way, or not at all, or whatever. He hadn’t been trusting, exactly. He’d been young, lost. Desperate. Luke was there. It had been a choice but it had been the only one.

            Looking at Whiskey now, Dex thought of all the choices he had, not all of them good. Dex could make it good. He was sure of that, at least.

            “Okay,” he said, and Whiskey looked up, his eyes glimmering lightly with hope. “I’ll do it. But there have to be some rules.”

            Whiskey’s mouth slowly spread into a wide smile and Dex knew, in that moment, that this would only complicate his life. Still, he returned the grin.

 

*~*~*

 

            Dex was sitting in class, watching a video he’d already watched from the optional supplemental material list, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Glancing up to make sure the professor was watching the video and not Dex, he pulled out his phone. The message was from Whiskey.

_Whiskey: what kind of rules are we talking about_

            Dex huffed a soft laugh. It hadn’t even been a full day since their conversation and Whiskey was already trying to get down the details. Someone was eager.

_You: Two kinds. One for the arrangement, another for the sex._

_Whiskey: kinky ;)_

_You: You’re literally the worst._

_Whiskey: so dramatic_

            Dex glanced back up at his professor, but he was still enraptured by the video.

_You: For group one, I’d prefer if we didn’t tell people about it._

_You: Also just casual. No feelings_.

            Dex was fairly sure he could follow that rule, as he felt that his feelings bar was already filled to the max.

            Speaking of Nursey, he leaned over at that moment to whisper-yell at Dex, “Get off your phone, slacker.” Dex stuck his tongue out back. Not exactly his proudest moment. Nursey brought it out in him. He brought a lot of things out in Dex, actually.

            Dex’s phone buzzed.

_Whiskey: fine with me bro_

_You: No calling me bro in bed._

_You: That’s for group two._

_Whiskey: im guessing dude is out too then_

_Whiskey: damn_

_You: Do you have anything you’d like to add or can I go now?_

            There was a minute or two before Whiskey responded. Dex pretended like he was paying attention and then glared at Nursey when he realized that he’d stolen one of Dex’s sticky-notes to draw a stick-figure of Dex with his head on fire. “Get it?” Nursey grinned. “Cause you’re a ginger.”

            Dex flipped him the bird under the desk and looked back at his phone.

_Whiskey: not to be rude or anything but ur clean right?_

_You: That’s not rude, it’s a good question to ask._

_You: I am. I can get paperwork if you want._

_Whiskey: nah i believe you_

_Whiskey: thanks sex yoda_

_You: Wtf_

_Whiskey: ur my yoda. teaching me the ways of sex. sex yoda_

_You: That is the worst thing I have ever read. Gtg and burn my eyes out brb_

_Whiskey: XD_

            “Ooh, this is my favorite part,” Nursey whisper-yelled to Dex, just as something exploded on screen and a woman started screaming. Dex sighed. How had he let Nursey bully him into taking this weird elective course with him?

            He glanced over to see Nursey laughing brightly at the goings-on and he swallowed hard. Oh yeah. That was how.

 

*~*~*

 

            Dex had been sitting in his desk chair for a few hours too long working on a CS project, so he joined Whiskey on his bed to finalize a few things and rest his back for a minute. He finally found the typo that was keeping it from working and deleted it, and everything looked perfect. He sighed, saving it and closing his laptop, standing to put it on his desk and stretch his back. When he glanced back at Whiskey, he was already looking at Dex. Specifically at where Dex’s shirt rode up at his waist.

            Dex flushed under the attention. “Focus on your problem set,” he chided, and lowered his arms.

            Whiskey glanced up at Dex and raised his eyebrows. “I finished it.”

            “Oh.”

            Whiskey got that determined look in his eye and put his papers on the floor next to Dex’s bed. When he straightened up again, he screwed his mouth to the side and looked at Dex straight on. “Let’s do it.”

            “Right now?” It was four in the afternoon on a random Tuesday. Then again, it wasn’t as if they were going out or anything.  They probably weren’t supposed to make a big deal about it. But it _was_ Whiskey’s first time. This was confusing.

            Whiskey shrugged. “Why not?”

            Dex sat down on the bed opposite Whiskey. It was awkward for a few beats before Dex remembered that he promised not to let it be awkward. He was going to make it good. He _was_.

            He pulled Whiskey into his lap so he could be somewhat in control, or feel like it anyway. They’d already talked about what Whiskey had and hadn’t done—he’d had a casual relationship with a female friend of his and they’d done a decent amount of stuff, but the most he’d ever done with a guy was kissing—so Dex didn’t hesitate to kiss him. It wouldn’t be Whiskey’s first kiss, or even first kiss with a guy, but Dex still tried to make it good. Though Whiskey was on top, Dex controlled the kiss, smoothing his thumb against Whiskey’s jaw, slowing his nervous energy, turning it into something languid, almost lazy, and comfortable.

            Dex pulled back after a minute or two to breathe. Whiskey kept his eyes closed and his mouth open. He made a nice picture. He was hot, even if Dex didn’t want him romantically, and Dex could appreciate that. He dragged his thumb against Whiskey’s bottom lip and leaned in to trail kisses across his chin.

            “How do you want to do this?” Dex murmured into the join of Whiskey’s jaw.

            Whiskey shivered in his lap. “Uh, I don’—I don’t know.”

            Dex hummed, pulling back slightly. “Want me to ask and you can say yes or no?” Whiskey nodded. Dex decided to start off simple. “Marks, yes or no?”

            “Yes,” Whiskey said, and his breath hitched as Dex bit down on a tendon in his neck. “But not—” Whiskey rolled his hips down and Dex couldn’t help but buck up in response. “Not visible.”

            “Okay,” Dex said. He moved down to Whiskey’s collarbone, pulling at his hoodie to give himself room. He pressed a kiss on the newly revealed skin and asked, “How far do you want to go? Hands?”

            “Hands sound good,” Whiskey said, but the –ood wavered as Dex started working on a mark on Whiskey’s collarbone. He grabbed at Dex’s shoulders and rolled his hips again, groaning. “Fuck, you’re so _big_.”

            Dex flushed. He was pretty big, compared to Whiskey, at least. As a forward, Whiskey was lithe and fast, while Dex was made to stop people in their tracks. Dex was also taller than Whiskey by a few inches and he’d spent a summer working on a lobster boat, which helped to fill out his arms and shoulders even more than they’d been. Dex knew his body was appealing but it was weird to hear it from Whiskey, his friend and tadpole.

            It still made him hot, though. Dex definitely got off on pleasing his partners.

            Dex hummed instead of talking back. Dirty talk was not his forte. He slipped his free hand under Whiskey’s sweatshirt to scratch lightly at his abs and Whiskey tilted forwards to muffle his noise in Dex’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he said, half-mumbled from Dex’s sweater. “Do that again.”

            Dex laughed lowly and went to do just that when there was a knock at his door. Dex pulled back immediately. From the hallway came Nursey’s voice. “Dexington, open up!”

            “Shit.” Dex just refrained from shoving Whiskey out of his lap. He stood to look in the mirror hanging by his closet, patting at his hair and straightening out his shirt. There was nothing he could do about his flush. He looked to Whiskey to see him settling back against the pillows like nothing at all had happened. Dex gave him a once-over. “Pull down your sweatshirt.”

            Whiskey looked down at his midriff, where a strip of skin was on tantalizing display, and he righted his shirt. He looked back up at Dex and gave him two thumbs-ups. Dex took a deep breath and turned to the door, pulling it open to reveal Nursey’s grinning face. It was ridiculous how breathless Dex went at seeing it, when not a minute ago he’d been making out with Whiskey.

            Nursey walked into Dex’s dorm, already talking without pause. “Brah, you’re not gonna believe the video we’re watching this week, it’s so trippy you don’t even—” He stopped, eyes on Whiskey on Dex’s bed. “Oh. Hey Whiskey.”

            “Sup.”

            Dex held his breath, waiting for Nursey to realize what had been happening and say something. Nursey stared at Whiskey for a few long seconds before turning back to Dex. “You have to watch the video, brah. It’s hilarious.”

            Dex exhaled. “Yeah, okay.” Nursey went to Dex’s desk and opened his laptop to get on the video—how did he know Dex’s password? That was worrying—and Dex looked to Whiskey, who had a similarly relieved look on his face. “You wanna stay and watch the weird-ass video from our even weirder class?”

            Whiskey’s lips twitched but he didn’t smile. He wasn’t as quick to smile when other people were in the room. “Nah, that’s okay.” He knelt to collect his things and shove them in his bag and then moved towards the door. A part of Dex wanted to hug him goodbye or something—which was decidedly not something that they did, but after what had happened it felt weird to just let him go—but Dex refrained. He settled for clapping him on the shoulder and Whiskey gave him a nod before leaving the dorm.

            “I didn’t know you guys hung out,” Nursey said, as he looked up the video.

            Dex took a seat on his bed, smoothing out the comforter, and shrugged. “His roommate is kind of loud so he comes here to do his work sometimes.” Nursey side-eyed him and Dex tried not to get defensive and give himself up. “Really. He’s a good guy, you just have to get to know him.”

            “He hangs out with the LAX bros too much,” Nursey said, but turned back to the computer to press play on the video. “Watch this shit, dude, it’ll change your life.”

            The video was, in fact, hilarious. No discredit to Whiskey, but watching Nursey laugh at its trippy-ness was probably the highlight of Dex’s day.

 

*~*~*

 

            Thursday was Dex’s birthday. Holster and Ransom threw a kegster, even though they just had one last week for Chowder, and everyone who came to that one came to this one too. The Haus was loud and filled to the brim and no matter where he went, Dex could feel the thrum of it under his skin. He took his birthday pie to the kitchen to enjoy, defending it from bottom-feeders like Nursey who tried to steal forkfuls.  Dex did eventually give in, though, because he was _hopeless_ and Nursey ate a slice of Dex’s birthday pie, grinning with every bite.

            After eating half of the pie, Dex ventured into the party to dance and drink and enjoy himself. He put his leftover pie in a safe spot with the rest of his presents while he partied. Chowder got him a Sharks t-shirt and a gift card for Home Depot. Holster and Ransom gave him a joint list of all the single girls on campus who’d be willing to “celebrate the day” with him. Dex took it to spare their feelings but stuffed it in the empty gift bag from Chowder’s present without looking at it. Lardo got him a nice sweater and a toy donkey that shit jelly beans (which was apparently from Shitty too) and Jack sent a card with money in it. Dex wasn’t going to turn that down—Jack _was_ rich, after all.

            Nursey got him a card that read _Happy 82 nd Birthday_ and had a joke about death on the inside. With this he gifted a Whoopee Cushion and a book of poetry. The book of poems was actually kind of sweet, and Nursey had written an inscription on the inside cover. _For your birthday, I give you a whole new world to discover_. Dex read a few while he ate his pie, and though some of them went over his head, they still gave him a warm bunch of emotions in his chest.

            The party lasted pretty long for a Thursday night. By the time it really died down it was Friday and Dex hadn’t been tasked with Nursey Patrol but if he didn’t get the guy home he’d end up sleeping in the Pond or a pile of trash. The tadpoles walked back with them, as the freshmen dorms weren’t too far from Nursey and Dex’s building, but when the paths diverged and the tadpoles should have gone left, Whiskey waved Tango off to go right with Nursey and Dex.

            “Someone needs to help Dex get Nursey home safely,” he said, as an excuse, but Dex eyed him suspiciously. Whiskey gave him a blank look back that betrayed nothing and Dex gave up trying. He was kind of drunk and had a definitely-drunk Nursey hanging off of him and he had more important things to focus on.

            They did manage to get Nursey back to his dorm, waking up his roommate in the process, but it went pretty smoothly, as far as these things usually went. Dex got Nursey to take off his shoes before slipping under his comforter and just collapsed into bed. “Don’t die in your sleep,” Dex told him, setting a bottle of water on his bedside table.

            “Mhmm, okay, sexy Dexy,” Nursey mumbled into his pillow and Dex felt his face heat. He ignored Whiskey’s pointed look and left the dorm room, pulling the door closed behind Whiskey as he left too. They stood in the hall for a few long moments, looking at each other.

            “Want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Dex asked. He didn’t know how tipsy Whiskey was and he didn’t want to send him off if he was just going to stumble and fall asleep in the grass.

            “I thought I could sleep at yours tonight,” Whiskey said. The way he shifted his weight from foot to foot once, then twice, was the only indication of nerves. “If that’s alright.”

            “Okay,” Dex said, and turned to start walking to his dorm, “but we’re both too drunk to do anything.”

            “Not even hands?”

            Dex considered it. “Maybe,” he acquiesced. He was drunk and a little horny and it _was_ his birthday.

            They reached his dorm in a few seconds, as Dex was just across the hall from Nursey, and he opened the door to let them in. Whiskey went to the bed and sat down, toeing off his shoes, and Dex fiddled with his jeans. If they were going to fall asleep after he wanted to be comfortable. He shucked his pants and pulled off his flannel, leaving them both on his desk chair. He felt Whiskey watching him as he reached for his undershirt.

            “You okay with this?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back collar of his shirt.

            “Hmm, what?” Whiskey’s eyes flickered up to meet Dex’s and in them was nothing but heat. Dex chuckled and pulled off his shirt, enjoying the way Whiskey’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth parting just enough to be enticing. Dex walked over and knelt on the bed, lifting Whiskey’s chin so he could lean down easily and kiss his parted lips.

            Whiskey curled his hands around Dex’s waist, guiding him to loom over Whiskey on the bed. He rested back against the pillows, making soft humming sounds against Dex’s mouth. With one hand, Dex held himself up, and with the other he rucked up the bottom of Whiskey’s polo, dragging his nails against skin, making Whiskey buck up against him. Dex pulled away from the kiss to pant, rolling his hips down against Whiskey’s. He felt how hard Whiskey was in his pants and Dex could _sympathize_.

            “Fuck,” Dex said, still panting, just as Whiskey asked, “Do you like Nursey?”

            Instantly it felt like ice water had been dumped down his back. “What?” He shifted back so he was resting on his calves, staring down at Whiskey who was flushed from the kissing and probably from the alcohol.

            Whiskey darted his eyes sideways at Dex’s wall. “I just. It kind of seems like you like him.”

            Dex huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. Whiskey tapped at the bedspread, looking back at Dex but visibly nervous. He looked debauched, with his lips all pink and his hair mussed and his polo pushed up to reveal his abs. Dex swallowed. If they were going to do this, he didn’t want Whiskey to have any potential for eventual regret (or whatever the word was for that hollow feeling Dex got in his chest when he thought about Luke for too long). Whiskey should probably have all the information if he was going to make an informed decision.

            “I—yeah. Yeah, I do.”

            “Oh.”

            Dex sighed, moving off of Whiskey to sit on his bed and lean back against the wall. This definitely wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have on his birthday. “This is not a new development, okay? It’s been at least like six or seven months. I know it’s not going to happen or whatever, I’m not—it’s just a thing I have, alright? It’s not important.”

            Whiskey squinted. “You sure?”

            “Yeah.”

            Whiskey shifted on the bed for a second and then said, “Alright.”

            Dex sighed and laid down on the bed next to him. The mood had passed and now he was just exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up with a mild hangover and eat the leftover birthday pie to soothe it. But he’d kind of promised Whiskey, so he looked over at him to find Whiskey was already looking back at him. He appeared to be equally tired.

            Dex made a face. “Wanna cuddle?”

            And so they did.

 

*~*~*

 

            “Fucking beaut of a game, Taddy,” Holster said, ruffling Whiskey’s hair even though it was sweaty. Whiskey frowned at the touch but thanked Holster when Tango nudged him in the side. Dex watched him from across the room. He was visibly excited, every tired muscle bouncing under his skin, but he kept it contained. Dex had no idea how he managed that. He’d gotten a hatty and an assist and he pissed off that annoying d-man on the other team with that one move during the second period. Whiskey should’ve been exploding with excitement.

            Dex stood, sweaty, and made his way to the shower. He took a moment to pause outside Whiskey’s stall, now that he was alone while Tango was washing up. “You know, he’s genuinely proud of you,” he said, nodding over at where Holster and Ransom were discussing something captainly. Whiskey raised his eyebrows in response and Dex pushed at his shoulder gently. “Really. He kind of sounds like he’s teasing but that’s just how he talks. He’s proud of you.” Dex let himself smile, just a bit. “We all are.”

            Whiskey managed to twitch the corners of his lips up. “Yeah?” His voice went lower, quieter. “How proud exactly?”

            “Well.” Dex glanced around to make sure no one was focused on them. He looked back down at Whiskey and thought about what he wanted to do later. He smirked. “You know what the traditional reward for a hatty is, right?” With that, he continued on his way to the showers, smiling to himself at the way Whiskey’s pupils had dilated ridiculously.         

            The shower was much needed for Dex’s sore muscles, and he came out of it feeling softer and a little keyed up. He dressed quickly in some old clothes and packed up his gear bag before making his way back to the bus. He pulled out his phone to scroll through some messages while he waited for the rest of the team to filter in. Nursey took the seat next to him within a few minutes, but he always got kind of quiet after games, so he put in his headphones and pulled out a book without speaking.

            Once everyone was back on board, they drove to the hotel. Dex was thankfully rooming with Whiskey tonight so the logistics wouldn’t be difficult. Dex let them in to their room, waving goodnight to the rest of the guys and pushing Whiskey into doing the same. Dex dumped his stuff on the far side of the room, used to having the bed by the window from rooming with Nursey. Nursey didn’t like all the noise from street traffic, which Dex found ridiculous because he was from _New York City_ and— and thinking about it made Dex miss the little argument that always followed that conversation.

            Dex sighed and looked over at Whiskey, who was pulling off his shoes, sitting on the other bed. The restless energy that sometimes accompanied the ends of games reasserted itself in Dex’s bloodstream and he pushed Nursey from his mind. He tried to plot a course of action for the night. Hat trick blowjobs were a staple, but they hadn’t gotten to just hands yet. He could just decide in the moment but Dex wasn’t an “in the moment” kind of guy. He could always ask Whiskey.

            Dex joined Whiskey on the bed closest to the door and waited for him to finish pulling off his shoes, socks, and khakis. Why Whiskey felt the need to dress like a pro-golfer right after a game was beyond Dex. Most of the guys preferred the softest things they owned. Dex alternated between a Sharks sweatshirt he’d stolen from Chowder and a t-shirt he’d had since his freshman year of high school that was thin and soft with age. He was wearing the latter now.

            When Whiskey was done, he turned to Dex. “So.” He shifted on the bed, possibly from nerves or maybe just from the leftover energy of the game. “What’re we doing, Sex Yoda?”

            Dex shot him a look, to which Whiskey merely smirked. Fucking tadpoles. “I was actually going to ask you,” Dex said, suddenly deciding, “but after that I don’t think you deserve it.”

            “As long as something touches my dick, I’m good.”

            Dex had to kiss him to shut his insolent self up. He maneuvered Whiskey back against the mountain of pillows by the headboard and kissed him until his jittery, frantic energy mellowed out into something yearning. He touched fleetingly, scratching so lightly at skin it might have felt like it wasn’t even there, brushing his fingertips against tender places only to pull them away after a moment. It only took a handful of minutes before Whiskey was groaning into Dex’s mouth, reaching for him, pulling him closer and closer until Dex was completely on top of him, covering every inch.

            “Please,” Whiskey gasped, when Dex ducked down to scratch his teeth against Whiskey’s neck.

            “Hmm?” Dex took a moment to tug at Whiskey’s ear, slow. “What was that?”

            Whiskey whined, using his hands on Dex’s hips to pull himself up and rut against Dex’s stomach. “Please.”

            “Please what?”

            Whiskey was too needy to even get annoyed at Dex. “ _Touch me_.”

            Dex could’ve said _I’m already touching you_ to draw it out further but this was supposed to be a reward for Whiskey’s hatty, so he relented.

            “Sit up,” he said, soft, through barely parted lips. He helped Whiskey out of his polo, which had already been rucked up from Dex’s teasing, and then let Whiskey settle back onto the bed as Dex removed his own shirt. Whiskey immediately reached out to drag his hands down Dex’s abs and pull him closer. Dex was going to take off his sweatpants too but decided to forgo it in favor of leaning in and biting marks down Whiskey’s chest.

            Whiskey whined again, curling one hand in the pillows and planting the other like a vice around Dex’s shoulder, pushing him further and further down. Dex had yet to actually tell him the plan but it seemed as if Whiskey had inferred well enough. When Dex reached the waistband of Whiskey’s briefs, he paused, letting his breath fan over the skin there until he could see Whiskey’s abdominals quivering.

            “You good?” he asked.

            “Yes, yes, _please_.”

            “Whiskey.” Dex waited for Whiskey to pull himself together enough to look down at Dex and meet his eye.

            Whiskey nodded once, eyes blown wide but clear, fingers tensing and shifting on Dex’s shoulder, his entire body coiled tight.

            “Okay,” Dex said, and nudged Whiskey’s briefs down. “But remember this is supposed to be a teaching moment.” Dex leaned down so his words would hit warmly against the head of Whiskey’s dick. Dex smirked at Whiskey’s responding whine. “So pay attention,” he said, and swallowed Whiskey down.

 

*~*~*

 

_Whiskey: can i come to ur dorm_

            Dex moved over to grab a paper towel to wipe the pie filling off his hands and picked up his phone.

_You: Why?_

_Whiskey: my roommate’s being loud and i wanna do hw_

            “Could you pass me that bowl, hun?” Bitty asked. He had the pie tin covered in dough and it was ready for the filling now, so Dex passed it to him. “Thank you kindly,” Bitty said with a wink and Dex huffed a laugh. He looked back to his phone.

_You: Come to the Haus and work_

_Whiskey: :(_

_You: Come on_

_You: There’s pie_

_Whiskey: there’s always pie_

            Dex assumed that meant he wasn’t coming, but in ten minutes Whiskey was there with his laptop and a scowl.

            “Oh, Whiskey! I wasn’t expectin’—come in, come in. You want somethin’ to eat? We’ve got pie in the oven if you don’t mind waitin’. We’ve also got cookies and I think there’s puddin’ in the fridge—”

            “I’m not hungry,” Whiskey said. Bitty faltered, his brightness dimming slightly, and Dex shot Whiskey a glare. Whiskey frowned and said, stilted, “Do you have water?”

            “We do! Sparkling or normal? With or without ice? Would you like a straw?”

            Whiskey sent Dex an incredulous look, which Dex responded to with a firm nod. Whiskey sighed. “Just normal’s fine.” He set up his laptop at the kitchen table and began to work, taking intermittent sips from his water to appease Bitty, who chatted aimlessly about some floozy lady back home his mama told him about as he cleaned up the counter. Dex helped him, putting away ingredients and wrapping up the extra pie dough that could be used tomorrow. Or later today, depending on Bitty’s mood.

            Halfway through, Bitty’s phone rang and he flushed deeply before leaving the room to answer it. Dex was pretty sure he was dating someone though he hadn’t figured out who as of yet. Ignoring that, though, he turned to Whiskey, who had been mid-lean trying to grab some of the cookies Bitty had baked that morning. Dex grinned at Whiskey’s caught expression.

            “See? It’s nice here.” He approached the table to grab a cookie for himself. “You should come over more often.”

            “Whatever,” Whiskey muttered, but the effect was dampened by the cookie in his mouth.

            “Seriously dude. ‘Got your back’ isn’t just a dumb motto. People are here for you. You just gotta ask.”

            “Geez, you don’t gotta go full after-school special, I got it.”

            Dex laughed, pushing at Whiskey’s head lightly to chide him before turning to start the dishes. Bitty walked in, saying, “Y’all’ll never believe what my mama said about the Lucases the other day—”

            Bitty cut himself off as Dex reached to turn on the faucet and the knob broke off, spraying ice cold water everywhere, including Dex. “Fuck!”

            “Oh my!” Bitty rushed over as Dex hurried to turn the water off from underneath.

            “What’s going on—holy shit!” Ransom and Holster arrived from the living room at the noise, both of them standing in the doorway staring dumbly. Dex managed to get the water off but he was already soaked. He could hear Whiskey snickering from the corner so he made sure to point his raised middle finger in that direction.

            “I’ll get towels!” Bitty said and raced out of the room. Dex began to strip in the kitchen. The water had thankfully only gotten his shirt wet, so he unstuck it from his skin and slapped the soaking garment against the counter, using a dishtowel to try and ineffectually dab at himself.

            “Whoa,” he heard Holster say, and he assumed it was about all the commotion until Ransom finished his thought.

            “Are you dating a vampire or some shit?”

            “What?” Dex looked up to see both of them staring, wide-eyed, at Dex’s chest. Dex muttered a curse, aware that there were a series of marks on his upper-body from the other day. He and Whiskey had finally gotten to hands, but Whiskey’d needed some assistance in keeping quiet and had seemingly decided Dex’s shoulders were the perfect way of doing that. Dex barely restrained himself from darting a dirty look over at him in the corner. “Leave me alone,” he said to Ransom and Holster, who’d taken a few steps closer.

            “Shit bro, she really went to town on you.” Holster leaned in closer to peer at a fairly dark mark on Dex’s pec. Dex batted him away with his dishtowel.

            “I’ve got towels!” Bitty rushed back into the room and Dex took the proffered linens gratefully, pulling one around his shoulders and using another to rub at his hair.

            “Bits, has Dex told you about his new supernatural girlfriend during one of your baking sessions?” Ransom asked, reaching out and poking at Dex’s shoulder. Dex flapped a hand to bat him away and took a big step back.

            “What? Oh. Lord.” Bitty blinked at Dex’s chest. “Um. No.”

            “Come on, dude, deets.” Holster grinned. “Who is she?”

            “I’m going to go get my tools,” Dex said, maybe a little too loud, and pushed past them to go get his toolbox from the basement. He swallowed down whatever he was feeling, flicking on the light and descending the steep, rickety staircase. It was fine. The blanket of assumption was one he was used to, even if it’d been stifling for years now. He didn’t need them to know, he didn’t _want_ them to know, about Whiskey at least. It wasn’t important.

            He found his toolbox in its usual place on a shelf near the washer. He thumbed over the initials on the front, thinking of his uncle who gave it to him, of back home and force-of-habits and lies that stopped tasting bitter after a thousand swallows. The edge of the box dug into his thumb and he tried to ground himself in that. He took a deep breath and brought the box back up to the kitchen, where Bitty was now cleaning up the floor and Ransom and Holster had disappeared.

            The sink was a pretty easy fix, even if it would need new hardware eventually. The Sin Bin wasn’t filling up nearly fast enough for any of the fixes Dex had in mind. He sighed to himself over all the possible jobs he could’ve been doing around the Haus, if only he had the money.

            He didn’t stick around long after that, borrowing a sweatshirt from Ransom so he could get back to his dorm since the dryer would’ve taken forever. Whiskey left with him, apparently finished with his assignment at this point, and they walked back through the autumn-chilled air quietly for a while.

            As they left frat row, Whiskey said, “You haven’t told them.”

            Dex knew he didn’t mean about them. He didn’t—what could he say? How could he tell Whiskey that the team would have his back no matter what while he kept this huge thing a secret from them? Dex’s arguments for why he’d never brought it up didn’t hold up in his own mind and he knew the cold air would just shatter them completely. He sucked in a breath and tried to find words, _any_ words.

            Nothing came.

            The wind whistled by and they kept walking. Dex tried to find something that would explain why he couldn’t talk about it, even with people he knew would love him for who he was, even with the people here. There was something panicky about the conflicting emotions in his chest that arose whenever he thought about it. Because he wanted to, _fuck_ did he want to. Sometimes he wanted to yell it from the top of Faber, tell everyone he met, because people were fucking beautiful and he could see all of it, appreciate all of it, and that was amazing.

            But whenever that bubbled up in his throat and threatened to come out, his jaw locked shut, tongue twisting in on itself out of self-preservation. He’d once read about brain development and how brains grow around familiar paths, or something like that, during childhood.

            There’d been so many moments where Dex had to catch himself, stop, keep quiet, growing up. He wondered if his brain had rewired itself to shut down in the event that his lips got too loose, his heart too big. He was programmed that way. The part of his code designed to make him say the words, _I’m bisexual,_ was blocked off. He couldn’t access it. He wondered if he’d ever be able to.

            They reached the part of the path where they’d have to split up. Dex paused and Whiskey paused with him, waiting, silent, patient. Dex looked him in the eye, felt himself loosening at the seams despite himself.

            The words came then, quiet and shameful. “I haven’t told anyone.”

 

*~*~*

 

            Dex should’ve noticed before it happened. All day Whiskey had been cagey, not speaking to anyone, even Tango, keeping to himself and putting in his headphones to block everything out. Dex let him have his space, assuming he was worried about the game that night or something, nothing major. They were playing one of the better teams in their division and Whiskey always took every game very seriously. He was kind of like Jack, that way.

            So Dex wrote it off and that night the enormity of his error made itself clear. Third period they were down by one goal and fighting to make up the difference. Dex got the puck and he could see Whiskey was open so, with one pass, Whiskey had it and he was going for the goal. A second before it happened Dex could see that the biggest defensemen on the other team was going in for a check and Dex didn’t know how bad it would be until Whiskey was slammed against the boards and didn’t come back up.

            Dex vaguely heard the whistle blow and people yelling around him but he couldn’t focus on any of it. Whiskey wasn’t getting up. Dex was over there in a second, pushing past opposing team members to kneel in front of Whiskey. He yelled Whiskey’s name over the roar of the stadium and just as Whiskey groaned, his eyes fluttering open to look back at Dex, the medics arrived to check him over and Dex was forced back.

            Whiskey stood up after a minute and the stadium clapped, the guys on the bench whooped, Dex could breathe. The rest of the game was nasty, with everyone trying their fucking hardest. Bitty got a goal off of Ransom’s assist and everyone screamed. It went into OT and Dex did his best to keep the puck away from Chowder, but even when he failed Chowder was there, stone faced and ready, and nothing went past him. Finally they got it in, slipped right into the corner of the opposing goal, a beautiful slapshot that had Dex yelling to get off the bench and hug the motherfucker who shot it.

            They won and they were exhausted and when they got back into the locker room, Whiskey was sitting upright and visibly shaken, but okay. Dex lumbered over to him in his skates, letting Tango ramble questions to a slightly dazed Whiskey as Dex checked him over with his eyes, then asked the medic what the damage was. It was a pretty good prognosis, as far as these things went, and he’d probably only be out for a game or two.

            “You got out pretty lucky,” Dex said, sending Tango off to shower. Whiskey fidgeted and looked away, nodding. Dex frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”

            “I—nothing, it’s no—”

            “Whiskey.”

            Whiskey picked at the material of his shorts, focusing on that instead of Dex’s face or the locker room or anything else. “I know the guy who did it. I—we went to school together.”

            Dex could feel his anger rising despite himself, up through his veins until it reached his heart and pounded steadily until it was all he could hear. The guys Whiskey knew in high school weren’t exactly friendly, or the ones he’d told Dex about weren’t, at least. Dex knew first-hand the difference between a fight and bullying, and while he’d grown about a foot and gained thirty pounds of muscle over the span of one summer, Whiskey’d never had that. The thought of it happening at all made Dex mad, but the idea that it could follow him here, to Samwell, was infuriating.

            Dex had to get changed out of his gear and he did so in a daze of sorts, thinking only of the name on the back of the jersey that’d hit Whiskey so hard he couldn’t get up. He showered in under a minute, dressed himself before he was dry and left his gear bag to get later. He needed to find the guy before their bus left, before he could get away with it. When he got outside Faber he found one of them on their own, leaning against the side of the building on his phone.

            “Winthers,” Dex called, and the guy looked up. Dex only saw his stupid fucking face for a second before he swung out, connecting with flesh and bone, and the give of it under his knuckles was so gratifying he couldn’t stop. Winthers hadn’t had much of a warning and his attempts to fight back were met with barely restrained amusement. “Doesn’t feel so good now, huh?” Dex felt himself spitting into the guy’s face. “Fucking coward, only fights when there’re five more guys at his back ready to jump in. How _dare_ you, you fucking—”

            “Dex, what the _fuck_.” Dex didn’t stop, couldn’t, until Nursey pulled him off the guy, panting with his anger, all of it still like fire in his veins. The guy, Winthers, could still sit up, was still breathing fine, could still get up and Dex wanted to make it so he couldn’t, but Nursey pulled him back into Faber before he could. He said nothing as he led Dex back to the locker room but his hands were tight around Dex’s wrist and shoulder. Dex let him pull him back to sanity, step by step.

            The locker room was mostly empty by the time they got back to it. Whiskey was still there and Tango with him, but everyone else had filtered out in the time it had taken to skin his knuckles on that guy’s jaw.

            “Whoa,” he heard Tango breathe out. “What happened? Did Dex fight somebody? Who was the other guy? Whose blood is that—?”

            “Hey, Tangs, chill for a minute, ‘kay?” Nursey sat Dex down in his stall and went over to where the first aid kit already sat next to Whiskey to rummage through it for bandages.  Dex stared at the ground and fumed. How dare the fucking little turd try and scare Whiskey now, he was at Samwell, he was theirs and they fucking protected their own—

            “Dex.” He looked up and Whiskey was staring at him, wide-eyed, open. Dex swallowed. What did Dex look like to him? Another one of those bullies with their split knuckles and unrestrained fury? A monster?

            “Hey,” Nursey said, soft, suddenly right in front of him. He picked up one of Dex’s hands and began dabbing at his knuckles gently. Dex listened to himself breathe, trying to slow it, calm himself. Nursey noticed. “You good?” he asked, under his breath.

            “Yeah. Yeah.” Dex swallowed. “Sorry.”

            Nursey nodded. He didn’t say anything like, “It’s fine” or “Don’t worry about it”, because they didn’t let each other off like that. They held each other accountable and it was one of Dex’s favorite things about them, even if it hurt.

            When Dex’s knuckles were wrapped and disinfected, Nursey stood from where he was kneeling in front of Dex and grabbed their gear bags. He handed Dex’s over and went to stand by the door, waiting. Dex stood and winced as he pulled his hands back into fists. Yeah, his split knuckles would probably hurt for a while.

            He looked to Whiskey. He didn’t know what to say.

            Whiskey did. He said, “Thank you,” quiet and firm. Dex nodded back and left with Nursey, his knuckles aching and his chest lighter.

 

*~*~*

 

            “Whoa.” Next to him on the bed, Whiskey panted, a semi-delirious grin on his face. “That was ‘swawesome.” Dex huffed a laugh. The guy finally used “‘swawesome” and Dex couldn’t even tell Chowder about it because then he’d have to explain the circumstances. Dex shook his head at the ceiling, but he was still smiling too. Whiskey might’ve been inexperienced but he was enthusiastic and Dex always enjoyed that, in a partner.

            The sex was good. Whiskey definitely improved with each time, experimenting and practicing, and Dex was happy to help him with that. His desire to learn was almost endearing and the energy with which he took to his studies was invigorating. Dex was having _fun_ which had never been the word he’d use to describe his sexual experiences. Of course he’d enjoyed them, but he’d never found himself laughing as the guy (or girl) tried out a series of increasingly strange Cosmopolitan sex tips he’d read while waiting for the dentist once.

            “We should keep doing this,” Whiskey said suddenly, breaking through Dex’s thoughts. Dex looked over at him but Whiskey kept staring at the ceiling. His lips twitched downwards and he shuffled under the blankets. “I mean, I know it was just supposed to be, like, teaching or whatever. And now that we’ve done everything, like, I guess there’s no reason to keep going.”

            Dex huffed, his lips pulling up into a smile. “First of all, we definitely haven’t done _everything_ and I’m a little concerned that you think so.” It had the desired effect, as Whiskey looked over, frowning.

            “What? What haven’t we done?”

            “And second of all,” Dex continued, to Whiskey’s visible frustration, “as long as we both want to keep doing this, I don’t see any reason to stop. We’re both enjoying it and neither of us is in a relationship right now.” The guy in Whiskey’s calc class had turned out to be somewhat of a dick and Whiskey decided not to keep seeing him.

            “Oh. Chill.” Even though Dex had Feelings about that word, he returned Whiskey’s smile.

            “Just for future reference, you don’t have to be scared or whatever to talk to me about things. Or anyone on the team, really.” Something about Whiskey’s jitteriness, the way he wouldn’t meet Dex’s eye, told Dex that he’d been holding this in for a while, worrying about when it would end. Dex didn’t want that to be their relationship, Whiskey keeping things quiet until he couldn’t anymore.

            “I know,” Whiskey said, rolling his eyes a little.

            “I mean it.” Dex waited for Whiskey to look at him before continuing. “I know I keep saying it but we’re here for you. All of us, always.” Whiskey remained quiet, still looking back at Dex, and Dex held it for a moment. Then he said, soft, “It’s okay if you’re not ready yet. But please don’t let fear of us be the reason you’re not.”

            “Okay,” Whiskey said after a beat or two. “I won’t, I promise.”

            “Good,” Dex said, and nudged his bare shoulder against Whiskey’s. It seemed to remind Whiskey of their position and his soft expression curled into a smirk. He shifted so he was upright and straddling Dex, hands pressed against Dex’s abs, hips pressing against sensitive areas.

            “You ready for round two yet, Dr. Phil?”

            “Dr. Phil?”

            “I don’t know, he talks about emotions or whatever.” Whiskey rolled his hips down and Dex inhaled sharply. “The point is, can you get it up again or what?”

            “Fucking tadpoles,” Dex groaned, and reached up to kiss the smug look off Whiskey’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whiskey groaned. “Fuck off.”
> 
> Dex hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Hmm, how about I just fuck you instead?”
> 
> Whiskey blinked. “Yeah, okay.”
> 
> Dex laughed, flipping them around so Whiskey was lying back on the bed, shirtless and sweaty and oh-so-willing.
> 
> Sometimes, in moments like these, Dex could nearly forget how much he ached for Nursey. Whiskey was fun and Dex loved their arrangement, but still. It didn’t alleviate the feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Next chapter! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and especially comments on the last chapter, they were very encouraging! I know this is a fairly niche fic and I honestly didn't expect it to get this much attention, and it's really made me excited to post the next couple of chapters.  
> This chapter has some **warnings** which include: internalized homophobia, reference to past homophobia, mentions of racism, exploration of anxiety, insecurities, and mild violence.  
>  This chapter is where the angst really hits its stride, so just warning you now! On the plus side, it ends fairly hopeful, and there are cookies, so.  
> Enjoy!

            “Harrumph.” Most people wouldn’t be able to pull off a sound like that, but Bitty wore indignation well—and cutely, if Dex could admit it. Though he probably shouldn’t try and admit it, what with Bitty’s new “secret” boyfriend. It hadn’t taken ten minutes after Jack’s visit for just about everyone—except for Shitty, weirdly—to realize just who Bitty’s secret boyfriend was.

            “What’s up, Bits?” Chowder asked from where he was thrown over the back of the couch.

            Bitty didn’t even pause to wrinkle his nose at the offending furniture. He said, “It’s those LAX bros again. I cannot deal with it anymore. I am _fed up_.” Dex wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever seen Bitty genuinely mad before, because whenever he was annoyed he simply looked like a disgruntled cartoon chipmunk. It was incredibly endearing and unfortunately not very effective at getting his point across.

            “What’d they do now?” Tango asked. He looked up from where he was braiding Whiskey’s hair, an event that’d been going on for about half an hour, prompted by Tango asking how on Earth girls performed such magic and Whiskey going “It’s not that hard, my sisters taught me” and Tango getting that sparkle in his eye that always appeared when he got the chance to learn something.

            “Oh, just one of the Chads being all drunk and yelling at me from across the street.” He huffed, shaking his shoulders out as he pulled off his coat. “Really, you’d think they’d be mature enough to avoid such things.”

            “LAX bros are assholes,” Nursey said, unconcerned, as he typed away at his laptop. Dex sent him a glare that Nursey didn’t respond to, aside from the slight twitch of his lips towards a smile.

            Across the room Dex could see Whiskey tensing, as he always did when the LAX bros came up. Dex knew why he hung out with them, and though he didn’t approve of a majority of them, he could agree that they weren’t all bad. Sean, for instance, Dex’s few-time bed buddy during his first semester his frog year. Pretty okay dude, as far as his skills went, at least.

            “They’re not all assholes,” Dex said, both for Whiskey and the half-remembered nights with Sean.

            “Yeah, right.” Nursey scoffed, glancing up to look at Dex. “Walking into that house must feel like the physical embodiment of stumbling upon a shitty reddit chain.”

            “Yeah, hun, I don’t know.” Bitty shook his head, pulling off his gloves. It wasn’t even December yet, but Bitty froze at anything less than 50˚. “I’m all for the “there’s good in everyone” mentality but those boys insult my baking. _Incorrectly_. They think I make cakes for some reason?”

            “They’re not allowed at your bake sales,” Whiskey said, suddenly, and everyone turned to him. He fidgeted, but Tango pet at his head and he calmed, slightly.

            “What?” Bitty frowned. The thought of anyone not being able to eat his food was probably horrifying to him. When he found out that March was gluten free, he spent a week straight finding a good recipe for when she stopped by.

            Whiskey coughed. “Um, yeah. Apparently, a few years back, they tried to buy stuff and this guy yelled at them. Johnson something? He said some weird shit about rivalries and progressing narratives, and it freaked them out so they never went back.”

            “Well.” Bitty put his hands on his hips. “Maybe I’ll have to try and rectify that. That is, if they can stop yelling at me from across the street like hooligans.” He shook his head, turning to leave the room. “I mean really. Of course I’m bundled up, it’s _freezing_.”

            They all exchanged a collective look when Bitty was safely in the kitchen. Well, the Northerners did. Chowder and Tango seemed a bit lost. Dex assumed that would be the end of the conversation and looked back down at his phone, where he was texting his brother, who apparently wanted to visit Samwell when he stopped down in Boston for one reason or another. Dex made a face at his phone. How did he say _fuck no_ without actually saying that?

            Then Nursey said, “I don’t know how you hang out with those guys, Whiskey.” Nursey despised the LAX bros possibly the most of anyone on the team currently, half from Shitty’s influence and half because the LAX bros were kind of, like, horrible to him. They picked on him for his clumsiness, for his poetry, for his fashion choices. It was pretty bad and Dex wasn’t really sure why they targeted him so much, but he had intimidated at least three different Chads after incidents involving Nursey before.

            Dex waited for Whiskey to say something dismissive, or not reply at all, but then he heard, “My brother’s on the team.” Dex looked up, a little shocked. Whiskey hadn’t really told anyone about his family. It’d taken a month and a half before he’d even brought it up to Dex.

            “What?” This had apparently piqued Nursey’s interest too. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

            “Foster brother,” Whiskey said, and it was possible that his cheeks were pink. It could’ve just been the lighting. “He came here two years before me.”

            “Oh. Sorry, dude. I didn’t know.” Nursey paused a moment. “He isn’t one of the Chads, though, right? Because they’re real dicks.”

            Whiskey quirked a smile at that and Dex nearly cheered. “Nah, his name’s Isaac.”

            “Chill,” Nursey said. “You should invite him around for some pie.”

            Whiskey hummed, leaning back against Tango’s legs and the armchair he was sitting in. “Maybe,” he said, and he was smiling, and Dex knew he was, too.

 

*~*~*

 

            It was raining, and Dex was in the Haus basement trying to fix the dryer for the fortieth time that semester, when he heard someone coming down the steep, rickety steps. He looked over and saw Nursey, laundry basket in hand. He huffed as he reached the last step, noticing Dex.

            “Broken again?”

            “The washer’s fine,” Dex said. “I can probably get the dryer done by the time your load finishes.”

            “Alright.” Nursey started loading the washer without complaint and Dex continued to try and get the dryer to work somehow. They really needed a new one. He was hoping that Bitty and Jack would come out soon, if only because there were sure to be an onslaught of fines once they were all allowed to call Bitty on his relentless pet names. But, for now, Dex would have to fix the dryer once a week and be paid in pie. He didn’t mind all that much, really. It was nice to be helpful.

            “Well,” Nursey said, after a few long minutes of silence. “All the broken things really help in your quest for dibs, huh?”

            Dex huffed. “I’m not looking for dibs.”

            “Come on, dude.” Nursey was using his lilted tone, the chirping voice he affected when he wanted to tease Dex just enough to annoy him. “We all know the truth, just admit it. It’s getting old.”

            “I’m not—” Dex knew that he shouldn’t give in to Nursey’s prodding, especially because it was exactly what Nursey wanted. He took a deep breath. “It’s—it’s just nice to be useful, alright?” Dex turned to exchange his screwdriver for another tool from his box. When he looked back at the dryer, he caught Nursey’s frown out of the corner of his eye.

            “You don’t need to be useful,” Nursey said. These words were disconcertingly void of the tinge of sarcasm or condescension or whatever it was Nursey put into his voice to piss Dex off just right. These words were—honest. Painfully so.

            Dex ducked his head, ostensibly to get a better look at what he was doing.

            “Dex.” Pointed, firm, a flicker of disbelief.

            He leaned further into the dryer’s machinery.

            “Dex. The team wants you around, useful or not.”

            He waited a few beats, in which Nursey’s huffiness only increased, and then grumbled, “Yeah, whatever,” pretending as if he was too busy with the dryer to entertain Nursey’s ridiculousness.

            He wasn’t, though. No, the only thing he could think about was Luke, on that beach, in cars and behind locked doors, every one of their transactions. Dex hadn’t had many friends in high school, none that he loved as fiercely as he loved the team and the people here. Luke was—he was probably the person Dex was closest with back home, or who he was the most honest with, at least. Spending time with Luke meant Dex had to be useful, had to give Luke what he wanted. Dex, of course, got something out of it too, but the lesson had been clear. Dex was only worth something when he had something to give in return.

            “Dex.”

            The firm iteration of his name was nearly as jarring as what Nursey was trying to convince him of. “Nursey,” he said, attempting to mimic Nursey’s tone and falling just a bit short. Dex coughed the roughness from his throat. “Leave it,” he said to the dryer.

            He held his breath but Nursey didn’t respond. Dex relaxed into the machinery, telling himself it wasn’t awkward as long as he had something to focus on. It only mostly didn’t work.

            “So,” Nursey said, however long later. His voice echoed around the basement, the insufficient word falling down at Dex’s feet with a _thud_. A second or two later, in a faux-announcer voice, Nursey said, “How about them tadpoles?”

            Dex huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” he said, leaning out of the dryer to exchange a tool. “They’re really something.” He gave Nursey a look that he hoped conveyed how done he was with the tadpoles’ shit.

            Nursey grinned. “Eh, they’re not too bad.”

            “Not too bad? Last week Tango spent half an hour— _half an hour_ —asking questions about Wellie the Well’s origin story and how it pertained to the history and development of Samwell.”

            “That’s an interesting topic,” Nursey said. At Dex’s flat look, he chuckled and nodded, leaning back against the wall. “Alright, I’ll give it to you that it’s not the most normal topic to get hung up on, but you gotta admire the kid’s confidence.”

            “Do I?” Dex grumbled, looking back at the dryer. “Do I really?”

            “Yeah, come on. The kid asks any question he has without the fear that it’ll make him look stupid or that people will get pissed at him. You know how much bravery that takes?”

            “Or just a lack of self-awareness,” Dex said, rather uncharitably. He might have been a bit pissed at how easy Tango found the CS class that had given Dex innumerable trouble last year. But that wasn’t here nor there, okay, anyone would admit that Tango was a bit, er, outside the mold.

            “Dex.”

            Dex sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll give him that. The pursuit of knowledge will stop at nothing.”

            “More like the pursuit of Tango.” Silence lingered for a minute or so. “I wish I could be more like that.”

            Dex finished loosening the last of the screws and pulled out of the dryer’s circuitry. “What do you mean?”

            He watched as Nursey fidgeted. “Nothing, I—nothing.”

            “Nursey.”

            “No, no, I didn’t—I just meant that. Well. It must be nice. Not worrying about how you’re perceived. Wanting to know more than wanting to be liked.” Nursey shrugged the most un-casual of shrugs ever shrugged in shrug history.

            “That shouldn’t be a problem for you, though. Everyone already likes you. I’m sure a few questions wouldn’t change that.” Maybe Dex wasn’t getting it. If anyone wasn’t going to like Nursey, Dex would assume it would be for how pretentious he sometimes was, or how he loved to push people’s (mostly Dex’s) buttons just to get a reaction, or how he was relentless with his directive to _chill_ when he himself was the most _unchill_ person Dex had ever met. (Of course, even all of these things, Dex had begun to develop a somewhat concerning fond annoyance towards instead of out-and-out hatred. Dex could attest that, despite strong attempts, Nursey was just impossible to hate.)

            “No, I mean—okay, if I put it like—at Andover, okay? Like, every kid in the class was the most high-strung, uptight perfectionist, and in everything—student council seats, model UN delegations, scholarship opportunities—everything was a constant battle. You were competing with the kid next to you for the teacher’s favorite at every turn. If you raised your hand to ask a question that everyone already understood, not only did you waste everyone else’s time, but you looked stupid too.” Nursey huffed. “Not to mention that everyone already thought I’d gotten in because of affirmative action type bullshit.”

            Dex squinted at him. “So what did you do if you didn’t know something?”

            “You figured it out. You Googled it, or looked it up in a textbook.”

            “That’s ridiculous.”

            Nursey threw his hands to the side. “That’s Andover.” He deflated slightly. “If you’re not smart and polite and perfect, you’re not good enough. It’s a petri-dish for anxious, insecure teenagers.”

            “No wonder so many of you OD on Adderall,” Dex said, quietly fuming. Nursey grinned back tightly. “And here I thought you were all just bored.”

            Nursey exhaled a short laugh through his nose, shaking his head and looking down. He looked—defeated. Dex had never seen him like that before, like he’d just given up. Nursey didn’t give up. He was annoying and stubborn and relentless to the end.

            “Well,” Dex said, around a cough. “Tango didn’t just get his confidence overnight.” Nursey looked up, an eyebrow quirked. “He probably built up to it. Asked little questions, every once in a while. It would make it easier, I would think.”

            Nursey quirked his lips to the side. “Would you?”

            “Don’t be a dick, come on.” Dex shuffled over so he wasn’t right in front of the dryer. “I’m gonna teach you how to fix the dryer.”

            Nursey blinked once, twice. “Um. I don’t really wanna learn how to fix a dryer.”

            “Perfect, that’ll make it low-stress.” Nursey groaned. “Come on, Nursey. The pursuit of knowledge, and all that.”

            “The pursuit of you losing your mind,” Nursey grumbled, but he joined Dex on the floor in front of the dryer, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as Dex handed him a tool. The next thing out of Nursey’s mouth was not a grumble, but a question.

            (Even if the question was “What the fuck is this?” it was still a start.)

 

*~*~*

 

            Whiskey panted into Dex’s neck, teeth scraping against skin just a bit higher than Dex would typically be comfortable with, but tonight? Fuck it.

            “Those were filthy fucking goals,” Whiskey said, his breath hot against Dex’s skin, and Dex grinned up at the ceiling. Two goals. _Two fucking goals_.

            He was high, he was soaring, he wouldn’t ever come down again. A right-time-right-place kind of thing in the first period, a lucky pass off of Whiskey’s stick and Dex found the goal, miraculously. The third period though, tied and counting down the clock, Nursey was there, ready for it, grinning as he tossed Dex the puck, knowing exactly what he was doing. In the seconds after the puck hit the back of the neck, Nursey was slamming into Dex, laughing, cheering, “You beautiful fucking ginger!”

            Dex was really never coming back down to Earth again.

            Any cellie was amazing, but being the center of it was an experience unlike any other. Dex won them the game, he was tackled by everyone on the team, laughing and bruised and sweaty and euphoric. The after game shower did nothing to alleviate the adrenaline rushing through him and he was so keyed up that he could do nothing but pull at Whiskey’s clothes and rut up against him.

            “Beautiful fucking hockey, that second goal, fuck.” Whiskey rolled his hips down against Dex. “I could’ve come in my jock when that went in.”

            Dex groaned around a laugh as Whiskey bit down on a spot just behind his ear. “You’re so turned on by hockey,” he said, his fingers finding their way under Whiskey’s shirt, rucking it up. “It’s ridiculous.”

            “ _You’re_ ridiculous,” Whiskey said, likely delirious with the need to get off. “And hot. Fuck, you’re hot.”

            “Did you down a shot or something that I didn’t see?” Dex lifted Whiskey’s shirt up until he got the message and tugged it completely off. “You’re not drunk right now, right?”

            Whiskey’s newly revealed face leveled Dex with an unimpressed look. The flatness of it was diluted slightly by his fluffed-up hair from when he pulled his shirt over his head. “You’ve got a hot, willing guy in your lap and you’re complaining?”

            “First,” Dex said, leaning in to drag his mouth down Whiskey’s sternum, “no one is complaining here. Second, making sure that your partner is coherent is an important part of safe sex.”

            Whiskey groaned, probably half because of Dex’s words and half because of Dex’s mouth. “No after-school special, Sex Yoda.” He inhaled sharply as Dex bit down a little harder in admonishment. “We know consent is important.”

            “And third,” Dex said, stilling Whiskey’s hips by holding him in place and looking up to meet Whiskey’s blown-out expression, “when you call yourself hot, it’s a big turn-off for me.”

            Whiskey groaned. “Fuck _off_.”

            Dex hummed, like he was thinking about it. He bit his lip, worrying at it for a moment, before releasing it. Whiskey tracked the movement. Dex said, “Hmm, how about I just fuck you instead?”

            Whiskey blinked. “Yeah, okay.”

            Dex laughed, flipping them around so Whiskey was lying back on the bed, shirtless and sweaty and oh-so-willing. Sometimes, in moments like these, Dex could nearly forget how much he ached for Nursey. Whiskey was fun and Dex loved their arrangement, but still. It didn’t alleviate the feelings.

            Dex had a job to do, though, so he shoved away the thoughts, grinned with all his teeth, and dove in.

 

*~*~*

 

            It was a Saturday and Dex had spent the majority of the night before searching a CS assignment for _one fucking bracket_ that was ruining the whole thing and he’d planned on sleeping in until possibly Sunday, depending on his mood, only to be unceremoniously woken up at nine in the morning by a series of texts.

            There was one from Chowder, one from Bitty, two from Whiskey, and about a hundred from Nursey, all of them saying something to the effect of _whiskey brought his brother to team breakfast and we would all benefit from a little mediation_.

            Dex blinked at his phone. “Fuck.”

            He got dressed in what would probably have been record time if he’d had the time to record it, and started jogging towards the Haus without a second thought. Whiskey had mentioned, the last time he stayed over, that he was thinking of bringing his brother to something at the Haus, but he hadn’t given Dex a time or a warning or anything. A part of Dex wondered if Whiskey had done this more or less on purpose to prove something to himself about the team, but he tried not to dwell on it. Some things were harder to unlearn than others, like the expectation of rejection or the instinct to keep one’s mouth shut, and Dex wasn’t in any place to judge.

            When he arrived at the Haus, though, things seemed to be going pretty okay. Isaac, a blond guy with a charming grin, was talking to Bitty about his pie with very serious look on his face. Whiskey stood nearby, pretending as if the whole thing was mildly irritating, but he was smiling slightly. Holster and Ransom sat at the dining room table staring suspiciously at Isaac, but didn’t seem totally against the idea of getting to know him. Nursey hovered in the corner with some pancakes, fidgeting slightly but listening to whatever Chowder was saying from where he sat at the table.

            “Hey,” Dex said, and half the room looked up.

            “Dex! Sit, sit. Chowder told us you had a long night. Pie or pancakes?” Bitty fretted until Dex took a seat at the table.

            “Pancakes are fine,” he said, looking to Whiskey, raising an eyebrow. Whiskey shrugged but he couldn’t get the hint of a smile off his face. Dex smiled back.

            “Dex,” Whiskey said, frowning now that he realized Dex could see right through him, “this is my brother, Isaac. Isaac, Dex.”

            “Dex,” Isaac said with a grin, walking over to stick his hand out. Dex took it. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Dex’s hand tightened reflexively in Isaac’s. The wording was innocuous enough but—

            Dex’s eyes flickered to Whiskey, whose expression reflected the same thoughts Dex was having. “Likewise,” Dex said, looking back to Isaac and forcing his hand to release. Isaac furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, likely to ask some kind of incriminating question, so Dex cut him off. “Where’s Lardo?”

            “Oh,” Bitty said, as he slipped a plate of pancakes (covered in _real_ maple syrup) in front of Dex. “She’s got some kind of assignment due tomorrow night and she’s, um. A bit stressed.”

            “I’ll go check on her,” Dex said, standing. He looked to his pancakes. “I’ll bring her some food.” He picked up the plate as some kind of proof.

            “What about you, hon? You should eat, you look tired.” Bitty had worrying down to a science, the guilt tripping big eyes and sweet Southern concern, but Dex held his ground.

             “I’ll make myself some more when I come back.” Dex gestured at the little pile of forks and knives next to Chowder. “C, could you pass me some silverware?”

            Chowder stuttered. “Um, sure.” He handed over the required utensils, frowning at Dex as he did. He knew something was off—probably everyone in the room could tell it wasn’t all hunky dory—but Chowder was good enough not to ask.

            “Be right back,” Dex said, and left. He told himself his breathing was labored because he jogged here, and that the thought of someone knowing—a stranger knowing—about him didn’t terrify him, but Dex never was any good at lying to himself.

            He took the stairs slow to calm himself and knocked lightly when he got to Lardo’s room. “Come in!” she called from within, so he pushed open the door to find her sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by various kinds of art supplies. She looked up, a bit of a crazed glint in her eye, and her remaining hair tied up with a scrunchie in a franken-version of an eighties costume.

            “Hey,” he said.

            Her eyes zeroed in on the pancakes. “Are those for me?” Dex made an affirmative sound. “Bitty’s recipe? Real syrup?”

            “Yes and yes.”

            “Gimme.” She held her hands out and Dex carefully transferred the plate over to her. She immediately dug in and, at a lack for anything else to do and a refusal to return downstairs so quickly, he took a seat at her desk. For a minute or two, she was too consumed in her food to assess him, but once her hunger faded, her eyes caught on him, squinted, considering. She chewed thoughtfully. “Whiskey’s brother down there?”

            “Yeah.” She looked at him and he felt compelled to add more. “He’s nice. Bitty likes him.”

            “Bitty likes everyone.”

            “He doesn’t like Kent Parson.” Lardo frowned at him. Dex assumed it was because there were only a few reasons why Dex would think Bitty didn’t like Kent Parson (it definitely wasn’t the way he acted, Southern silent dissing and all), and the biggest one was that Jack didn’t like him, and Bitty was dating Jack, a fact Dex definitely wasn’t supposed to know. “Maybe ‘cause they look so much alike,” Dex added, to calm Lardo slightly, and it worked.

            She took another bite of her pancakes. “It’s good he brought him,” Lardo said, chewing. “He’s opening up. Slightly.”

            “Samwell doesn’t really let you stay closed,” Dex said in a joking tone.

            Lardo looked up from her pancakes and her gaze hit him viscerally. “Sometimes it does,” she said without looking away from him. Dex swallowed. The moment held for a second, two, and then Lardo shrugged and looked back at her food. “But you’ve been a big help with him. I’ve been busy with thesis and senior portfolio shit. I haven’t been as focused as I could’ve been.”

            “He’s been adjusting pretty okay, considering. Both of them have, really, but Tango—”

            “Is a very adjustable person,” Lardo interrupted, smiling a little. “Yeah. He’s like Rans and Holtzy that way. Shitty and Bitty and them.” She sighed. “You, me, Whiskey. We don’t know how to just—fit.”

            Dex gaped slightly, incredulous. “Lardo, you fit perfectly. You keep all of us from falling apart. We’d be lost without you.”

            “It took work.” She looked up. “Takes work. It’s a constant battle, you know.” Her eyes were heavy, lined with bags, her shoulders hunched in on herself. She was obviously exhausted, probably more honest than she would be otherwise. Still, when she smiled, no matter how small or fragile, it changed her whole face into something bright, something hopeful. “But it’s worth it. They make it worth it.”

            Something cold and twisty in Dex’s chest throbbed. He opened his mouth to say something, say _it_ , but it didn’t come. He wanted to, he wanted to say it so badly, but there were hands over his mouth, hands curled into fists, hands and legacies and force-of-habits pulling at his shoulders, pulling him down, and it was all too heavy.

            Lardo’s smile faded and she looked back to her pancakes. “Anyway. Thanks for looking after Whiskey. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to encourage someone else to open up.”

            “Yeah.” Dex fiddled with his fingers for a few moments and then stood up. “Anyway. Good luck with your, uh, project.” Lardo raised a piece of pancake on her fork up in an approximation of a “cheers”. Dex nodded once and left.

            As he made his way down the stairs, he heard laughter that was undeniably Whiskey’s and he stopped, mid-step. Dex thought of his brother, half an hour away and not visiting because Dex didn’t want his family and his team in the same place. He thought about the fact that he’d never said the word “bisexual” with someone else in the room, the fact that he’d never told anyone he liked guys. He thought about how Whiskey had been at Samwell for four months and his brother was standing in the Haus kitchen, meeting the guys, aware that Whiskey was in some kind of relationship with Dex.

            Dex stood on the steps for a long while.

 

*~*~*

 

            “Have you ever tried to explain a fuck-buddies relationship you have with a dude to your very protective older brother?” Whiskey asked, shirtless and lying back in Dex’s bed as he worked on a problem set. He’d been giddier since Isaac met the team, looser and quicker to smile and a decent amount more annoying. The sex hadn’t seemed to mellow that at all. If anything, it seemed to have amplified it.

            Dex, sitting at the end of the bed with a laptop in his boxer-clad lap, spared him only a glance. “No,” he said, a little clipped, “I can’t say I have.”

            “It’s weird as fuck.” Whiskey reached out with a foot to poke Dex in the calf. “Don’t worry, though, he’s not gonna beat you up or anything.”

            “I could take him,” Dex said, unconcerned. He was skimming his essay for the fourth time for typos and had no time for Whiskey or whatever thoughts he was fostering in Dex’s head.

            “You don’t know that. Brothers gain superhuman strength in defense of each other. Like when moms lift cars for their kids. Or like Captain America.” Whiskey sat up, apparently disinterested in his problem set as he put it to the side. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, maneuvering himself so his head was by Dex’s hip as he laid on his front. “You don’t have a brother.”

            “Actually.” Dex changed a word in his essay. “I do.”

            “You have a brother?” Dex hummed positively. “How come I didn’t know that?”

            “He doesn’t live on campus, for starters.”

            “No, really.” Whiskey pushed himself up onto his elbows. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

            Dex shrugged. “There’s not much to mention.” He referenced a source for a quote and double-checked the author’s name. He’d left out an “e”.

            “Dude.”

            “Whiskey. This isn’t some big scandal. I just don’t talk about him that much.” Dex moved onto the next paragraph, scanning words without retaining them. Too many things were yelling in his head, echoes of his brother’s voice telling him he couldn’t be queer in their town, ghosts of moans muffled by biting into the skin of Dex’s shoulder, the things—the slurs—his team used to say when he turned his back. He didn’t know why this was happening. He’d gone so long being fine and now—now.

            “You don’t really talk about anything much,” Whiskey said.

            Dex huffed. “What do you want from me?” He deleted a redundant word in a sentence and scanned it once more to make sure it made sense. It probably did, though Dex couldn’t grasp it in that moment.

            “I don’t know.” Whiskey fidgeted on the bed, tucking his hands in his armpits to still them. The usual nonchalant, almost cocky way he held himself was gone, and he looked vulnerable, shirtless and unsure. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve known each other for five months and I didn’t know that you have a brother?”

            “You’ve known Ransom and Holster and Lardo and Chowder just as long as me. I bet you don’t know about any of their siblings.” Dex stopped reading in the middle of a paragraph. He’d forgotten his argument. What was his argument?

            “Yeah, well. That’s different.”

            Dex looked up, frustrated. “Different how?” Whiskey glanced down at the bed with its rumpled blankets. He looked back up and raised his eyebrows, the tinge of something teasing in the gesture, and Dex just— “And what? You think just because we’re fucking you get to know everything about my life?” Whiskey flinched but Dex didn’t notice, or did and didn’t care. “Just because you suck my dick doesn’t mean you unlock my super-sad backstory, or any bullshit like it. Not everyone wants to go around telling everyone about how shitty their childhood was, Whiskey. Grow up.”

            Somewhere between “suck my dick” and “shitty childhood” Whiskey’s expression closed off. Dex pretended like he didn’t care, his anger smothering his regret, and he looked back to his essay. He must’ve hit the keys sometime during his diatribe, as a key smash was now bisecting the word “together”.

            “Maybe I should go,” Whiskey said, voice flat.

            “I think that would be best.” Dex recognized the iciness in his voice. It was reminiscent of Maine, it’s harsh winters, and that choked him. Whiskey got dressed quickly and grabbed his bag.

            The door shut softly as he left.

 

*~*~*

 

            Samwell’s gym was well-funded. Lots of wealthy alumni loved to donate towards student athletes, so it had an endless row of treadmills against one wall, rowing machines as far as the eye could see, and a weight section that blew Dex’s mind when he first got here. Its amenities were seemingly endless and Dex used them to try and force his brain to stop thinking. He exhausted himself running and lifting and squatting, but it wasn’t enough. His mind was racing, getting louder with each panted breath.

            He collapsed down on a bench and stared at nothing for a while, gulping intermittently at his water bottle. He tried to remember something that would help, what he’d done in the past when his brain got too loud to stomach, but this had never happened before, not this bad. It made him angry, pointless and without direction. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to hurt. He wanted his hands to ache until he couldn’t feel anything over the throb of them.

            Samwell’s gym had a boxing section. Dex hadn’t done a lot of regulated boxing aside from a few free classes at the YMCA, but he’d punched enough things in his life that he thought he’d be okay. He packed up his duffel and made his way to where they hung the bags.

            It was pretty empty, which Dex was fine with. He turned on a playlist that would block out all other noise and shoved in his headphones. It took him two tries to wrap his hands right with some tape left near the bags, but when he finished the second time he deemed it good enough and faced the bag. He started swinging and tried, desperately, to lose himself in the motions.

            _Punch_.

            He’d learned to fight early. He hadn’t gotten good at it for a while, though. He’d been eight, almost nine, the first time someone hit him and blood came out. Jimmy Morris had punched him in the mouth and Dex’d come home with dirt on his face, because his hands had been covered in it when he tried to wipe away the tears. Jay, four years older and too cool for his baby brother, had sat Dex on the bathroom counter and cleaned him up.

            “What happened?” he’d asked, his hands clinical, rough. “What’d you do to make him hit you?” Dex had said nothing. He’d learned that day what danger his words could get him into and he refused to do it again.

            _Punch_.

            No one told him that he wasn’t supposed to find boys pretty. No one told him to keep those thoughts to himself. No one kept him from saying it to Jimmy that day.

            _Punch._

            Jay found out anyway. Things like that didn’t stay quiet in their town. Maybe Dex’s parents were told. Maybe they weren’t. Dex never asked.

            _Punch_.

            Jay did. Jay asked him, “Is it true?” once, when Dex was too young to know how to lie to his big brother and too young to watch as his brother’s face hardened at Dex’s lack of response. “You don’t say shit about it,” Jay had said, his voice grave, firm. “You tell no one. You do nothing. You can’t be a fag in this town.”

            _Punch_.

            Once was already enough, though, and the rumors stuck to his back through middle school, high school. He was the freshman fag, tiny Will Poindexter, when Luke Rossi came out of nowhere to save him.

            _Punch_.

            He can’t be that way, people said, whispered. If Luke would touch him he couldn’t be bad. Some people wouldn’t have been as brave as Luke, associating with someone like Dex with the kind of secrets he had, but Luke was brazen, in that way. He touched Dex without fear of being stained and, in that, made Dex golden.

            _Punch_.

            Dex hadn’t known why someone like Luke would dare be seen with him, not until that night on the beach, the rough hands and desperate mouth. After, Dex had been stunned, panting with a rock at his back, holding him up. Luke had zipped up his fly and grinned, white teeth blinding in the moonlight. He’d said, lazy almost, “I assume I don’t have to tell you to keep quiet about this.”

            _Punch_.

            No one had to tell Dex. He’d learned at eight, defense mechanism. Quiet targets are boring until they bleed. Hold that off for as long as possible. Learn to slink behind expectations, bite your tongue when their words pierce your skin.

            _Punch_.

            Of course, then he’d shot up eight inches and gained twenty pounds of muscle in one summer, and people stopped looking at him too long. He was quiet Will Poindexter, no one really talked to him. People say he used to be… but that doesn’t matter now. Look at him.

            _Punch_.

            Someone like him could never be—

            _Punch_.

            A friend of Luke Rossi’s could never be—

            _Punch_.

            Whatever he used to be, he’s changed now. He’s _fixed_ now.

            _Punch_. _Punch **. Punch**_ **.**

            Dex swallowed, pulling back. His hands ached. His head hurt. He sucked air into his lungs and that stung too. He pushed his wrapped fingers into his hair and tried to count to ten, hold his breath, whatever. He tried to calm down and it didn’t happen and he didn’t know why.

            Breaking points were a thing but they’d never applied to him. He was Will Poindexter, he’d gone ten years with the weight of slurs and beatings and disgust on his back, he could handle people not knowing that he liked guys, it didn’t _matter_.

            Why did it matter? Why did it suddenly matter?

 

*~*~*

 

            Dex’s knuckles were only slightly bruised from his fight with the punching bag. He pushed them into the bread dough in front of him and they disappeared, at least momentarily.

            “Hon, could you pass me the salt, please?” Dex pulled one hand from the dough to grab the salt shaker and pass it to Bitty. “Thank you,” Bitty said, eyes lingering on Dex’s knuckles. Dex stuck his hand back in the dough quickly. Bitty cleared his throat. “Is everything—alright?”

            “What?”

            “Nothing, nothing. It’s just.” Bitty fretted with the mixer in front of him, adding salt to the pie dough inside it. “Well. You and Whiskey seem to be in some kind of, um, disagreement? And you’ve been somewhat…distant as of late.”

            Distant. He’d been—

            “Did you know I had a brother?” Dex asked. It burst from somewhere in his chest he hadn’t known existed, but once it’d escaped he felt somehow—lighter.

            Bitty blinked. “Um, yes? I think you’ve mentioned him once or twice.”

            “His name’s Jay,” Dex said, more words tumbling off his tongue. “His real name’s John Junior, after my dad, but everyone calls him Jay for short.”

            “Oh. That’s—nice?”

            “He’s gonna be in town next week but I told him we had a roadie so he wouldn’t visit. He’s a dick and I don’t—I don’t want him here and I don’t know why it’s such a big deal that I don’t talk about him much.” Bitty blinked a few more times, likely stunned at the rush of words. Dex couldn’t stop them. “Do you think I’ve been distant more than as of late? Do you think I’ve been distant since I got here?”

            “Well, I.” Bitty shook his head. “You’re not as open as, say, Chowder or Nursey, but that’s just—some people like to talk about everything and some people don’t.”

            “How am I not open?” Dex asked, his voice scratchy and indignant, and he swallowed, trying to reign it in. Yelling at Whiskey was bad enough, but if he did the same to Bitty he might never forgive himself.

            “Well, hon.” Bitty’s voice was soft, gentle. Dex both craved it and detested it at once. “Let me put it this way. I didn’t know your real name was Will until about November our first semester.”

            “Oh.”

            “And I still don’t know what the J stands for.”

            “Oh.”

            Bitty smiled sympathetically. “Dex, sweetheart. It’s okay if you don’t want to share every little thing about yourself with us. Friendship isn’t knowing every little detail about each other. It’s being there for each other when they have something to share and when they don’t. And accepting people for who they are.” Bitty reached out and squeezed Dex’s arm. “Well,” he amended, smiling, “as long as they aren’t murderers or something.”

            “You’re a lot more like Whiskey than you think,” Dex muttered to himself.

            “What?”

            Dex shook his head. “Nothing, I—just. What do you do when you _want_ to share but you just. Can’t.”

            Something in Bitty’s eyes got softer but Dex couldn’t pinpoint it. “You keep trying,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “And the real friends will be there for you whenever you can.”

            Dex took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” With another squeeze to Dex’s shoulder, Bitty pulled away and turned back to his mixing bowl. Dex looked at the dough on the counter, felt the sticky residue on his fingers. “Bitty?” he said.

            “Hmm?”

            “It’s Jacob.” Bitty looked up. “My middle name is Jacob.”

            Bitty smiled.

            It was a start.

 

*~*~*

 

            The dorm door opened and Whiskey stood on the opposite side in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked tired but like he was trying not to. His expression closed off when he saw Dex.

            “Can I come in?” Whiskey shrugged and moved just slightly out of the way. Dex took what he could get and entered. Whiskey’s roommate wasn’t there, so it was just Dex, stood anxiously in the middle of the room, and Whiskey, watching him. Dex swallowed. “My brother’s name is Jay and the last time I saw him he made a crack about all the fags I must be getting at Samwell.”

            Whiskey blinked and his eyes opened a bit wider than before.

            “I don’t—I’m not used to talking about myself. I don’t—like it. Or I’ve taught myself not to, I don’t know.” Dex took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. We are—I consider you a close friend and it wasn’t fair of me to pretend otherwise. And you’re not lesser than me because you chose to share some of your trauma with me. I was being a dick. I’m sorry.”

            Whiskey watched him for a second, two. “You were being a dick.” Dex nodded and looked down. It was silent for a handful of seconds more, possibly a full minute. “I forgive you.” Dex glanced up. Whiskey huffed, rolling his eyes a little. “The sex is too good to hate you forever.”

            “Whiskey.”

            Whiskey laughed and ended it with a small smile. “Really. I forgive you. I won’t push like that again, but no more exploding on me either.”

            “I promise.”

            Whiskey nodded. “Good.” He looked around his dorm before settling back on Dex. “My roommate’s gonna be home in ten. Wanna hang out in yours?”

            “You sure?”

            Whiskey bent down to grab his bag from the floor by his bed. “Totally. I really mean hang out, though,” he said, as he joined Dex to leave. “I need to vent about this asshole in my calc class. Tony just doesn’t solidarity-hate the way you do.”

            “That’s probably a good thing,” Dex said, holding the door open for Whiskey.

            Whiskey rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

            Dex followed him out the door, smiling.

 

*~*~*

 

            Dex was pulling on his sweatpants to go to bed when there was a knock at the hotel room door. He finished pulling them up as he went to answer it, revealing Whiskey on the other side. He fidgeted where he was standing, pushing his weight onto his toes and returning back to the ground. Dex raised an eyebrow at him.

            “I’m keyed up from the game,” Whiskey said, shrugging almost nervously. “Tony is sleeping in our room.”

            “You can hang here, but Nursey’s in the bathroom.” Dex gave him a pointed look. He knew what kind of “keyed up” Whiskey got after games, and hockey on its own seemed to turn him on enough without the added adrenaline.

            Whiskey rolled his eyes. “I think I can keep my hands off you for one night,” he said, passing Dex in the doorway. He went to sit on the end of the first bed and Dex told him that was Nursey’s. Whiskey, the little shit, then turned and jumped and star-fished onto Dex’s bed, rumpling the blankets.

            “Dick,” Dex said, and nudged him over. He grabbed the TV remote and went searching for the HGTV channel. He and Nursey usually watched House Hunters before they went to bed and bet coffees at Annie’s over what house they would pick. It was actually a pretty even split between the two of them of who won, which pissed Dex off to no end.

            “The home improvement network?” Whiskey made a face.

            Dex pointed the remote at him. “No complaining.”

            “You’re such an old man,” Whiskey said as he settled back into _Dex’s_ pillows. Dex got in next to him and stole a pillow just to be annoying. Whiskey didn’t even seem to notice. Jackass.

            “It’s our nighttime ritual,” Dex said, sniffing, offended.

            Whiskey raised both eyebrows at him. “That’s gay.” Dex tried not to show his wince and failed. “And I mean like actually gay, like you two are an old married couple with a nighttime—”

            Nursey came out of the bathroom at that moment in a pair of sweats and nothing else and Dex panicked, shoving a hand over Whiskey’s mouth. If Whiskey’s eyebrows were any indication, he wasn’t impressed.

            “Oh, hey.” Nursey waved awkwardly. “We have company.”

            “Possibly not for long,” Dex said, releasing Whiskey’s mouth when he licked Dex’s palm. Dex glared at him and Whiskey simply stuck his tongue out back. “He’s not very well behaved.”

            “I can see that,” Nursey said, laughter in his voice. Dex turned and stuck his tongue out at Nursey and Nursey laughed brightly. Which totally wasn’t Dex’s goal in the first place. Nursey turned his attention to the TV. “Ooh, international. Where are we?”

            “Fiji, I think.” Dex changed the settings so there were closed captions. Whiskey sent him a look that said this act did not help his old man case. Dex discreetly pinched his side, which made (the very ticklish) Whiskey squawk, indignant.

            “Quiet,” Nursey said, a tinge of genuine annoyance in his voice. Huh. Dex hadn’t thought that Nursey was _that_ into House Hunters. Strange.

 

*~*~*

 

            It was late. The room was dark and the only reason Dex could see anything was because of the fleeting touch of a dim streetlamp outside his window. The moon had gone behind a cloud. Dex had been awake when it happened, sitting up in bed, watching.

            Next to him, Whiskey was asleep, warm and curled into Dex’s side. He didn’t snore, but each breath was accompanied by a soft wheeze that Dex probably would’ve found endearing if he was in love with Whiskey. As it was, it was mildly annoying, but not enough to kick him out of bed.

            Outside, it had started to snow. Soft, heavy flakes that probably wouldn’t amount to much, but it was pretty to watch as it fell. Dex sighed. Whiskey wriggled closer, pressing his nose into Dex’s hip, getting a bit of drool on Dex’s pajama pants. Dex turned to push him away and stopped.

            Dex pursed his lips. Slowly, he reached down and poked Whiskey in the cheek. He didn’t react. Dex tried it again. Nothing.

            “Whiskey,” he said, his voice urgent but whisper-quiet. Whiskey didn’t make any sound in response. Dex blinked down at him.

            They were coming up on winter break. Dex had bus tickets that would take him to Portland, where Jay would pick him up and drop him off at their parents’ house, and there Dex would stay, in his childhood bedroom, running into people from high school at the grocery store, smiling into awkward silences, getting up early in the morning to get in a jog despite the cold and snow because it meant a half an hour alone. He loved his family, and he liked visiting home again, but—

            If he had to explain it, it would be like this; imagine living for years with a rock on your chest. You get used to it. The rock is just another part of life and things go on despite it and it goes unnoticed, most of the time, as long as there’s no extra pressure. Then someone takes the rock off and you can breathe, deep and even and true. It’s amazing and overwhelming and you never want the rock back again, because if the rock came back, with your newfound knowledge of how easy you can breathe without it, you have no doubt that it would choke you.

            Dex loved his family, and he liked visiting home again, but he hated that fucking rock.

            Now, he looked down at Whiskey and swallowed. Most of the time he convinced himself that having the chance to even breathe this well was reward enough, but with the visit looming so close in the future, Dex couldn’t help but resent himself for not taking as deep a breath as possible while he could.

            Whiskey wheezed softly against Dex’s hip.

            Dex held his breath for one second, two, three. He let it out on a sigh. “Whiskey,” he said, inhaling with a stutter. “I’m bisexual.”

            Whiskey wheezed. Dex smiled. In the sky, the cloud moved to reveal a bright, blinding moon.

 

*~*~*

 

            Bitty always had a big job before winter breaks because he baked everyone’s present to give to them before they left. Some people got pies, or mini-pies, but others got handmade loaves of bread or intricately decorated cookies, and pairing the work of all that with finals and recording videos for his vlog for the holidays, he had a lot on his plate.

            So Dex volunteered to help him with the baking and when he showed up to help, Bitty had already set up a camera. “You don’t mind, do you?” Bitty asked. “It’s just I won’t have time to bake all the Falconers’ gifts if I don’t record this right now.”

            “Um, no. I don’t mind.” Dex glanced at the camera. “I won’t be, like, in the video though, will I?” Dex began to roll up his sleeves so they wouldn’t get covered in flour.

            “I will do my best to edit you out, but I’m sure the middle-aged ladies who watch my vlogs will appreciate whatever eye-candy I leave them.” Dex felt himself flush deeply and refused to respond, because he could tell by the half-smirk on Bitty’s lips that that had been his goal. “Anyway,” Bitty said, walking over to turn on the camera. “You can get started on some pie dough while I make the cookie batter.”

            After dozens of times in the kitchen baking with Bitty, Dex had the recipe for a basic pie dough memorized, so he grabbed his ingredients and some measuring cups and got to work. Whenever Dex focused on something, whether it be skating or working out or even homework sometimes, his mind slowly mellowed until he wasn’t really thinking about anything at all. He settled into the movements of baking, measuring and watching the ingredients fall into the bowl, come together into something delicious, something with the power to bring joy to someone else.

            Dex was just about to dump the dough onto the counter to start combining the pieces into an incorporated, workable dough, when his calm was broken by Bitty’s voice saying, “Hey, y’all, Merry Christmas! Now, y’all know how much I love the holidays and how much I love holiday baking, so today’s video is gonna be about my favorite holiday cookie recipes and some decorating tips for your own baking presents at home.”

            Dex looked over, watching Bitty put on a persona for the camera. It wasn’t so far off from who he usually was, but this Bitty was almost brighter, more performance than honesty. The closest Dex had seen him to being like this was back in his very first semester, when Bitty was just meeting all of them. Dex remembered what Bitty had said about not knowing his name for three months of the semester, remembered the too-bright smile Bitty would give him whenever he got closed off, and wondered if Dex really had been last year’s Whiskey.

            “I have a little elf in the kitchen with me today,” Bitty continued, pulling Dex from his thoughts, and Dex gave him a flat look at the elf comment. Bitty laughed pleasantly, honestly. “Would you like to say hello to everybody?”

            Dex frowned at the camera for a moment before sticking his hand into frame and waving.

            Bitty shook his head, smiling. “That’s Dex, y’all. Maybe we’ll be able to get him in front of the camera sometime later. But for now…” Bitty went off into instructional mode and his even-toned teaching voice was soothing enough for Dex to settle back into the motions of baking.

            Dex already had all his Christmas gifts purchased (and one Hanukkah gift, for Holster) but everyone appreciated a homemade pastry. He was thinking about making his grandma’s cookie recipe to bring up with him, but that would bring with it the implication that he’d been the one to make it, and he was sure Jay wouldn’t let him live that down. Then again, the look on Ma’s face when she tasted one of her mother’s cookies (who’d been gone seven years now) might just be worth the taunting.

            Dex had been trying to teach himself that, recently. That sometimes the things you gained were better than the things you lost. It was a lesson demonstrated to him by Whiskey, and watching him introduce the team to his brother, give up the safety of distance for the closeness of friendship, made Dex finally, completely agree with Nursey that the tadpoles were pretty alright.

            "Bitty,” Dex said, as he balled up the pie dough to saran-wrap and stick in the fridge. “Remember when we talked about—sharing?”

            Bitty hummed. “Yes I do. You’ve probably made a connection between that conversation and me and Jack, right? Because I did want to tell y’all, all of y’all, but we’d been so worried about it gettin’ out and it was nice to just be us two for a little bit, but I’d understand if you were a bit angry or feelin’ betrayed or—”

            “No, Bitty, I—no, I’m not mad. Of course I’m not. It was yours and Jack’s decision. It was a big thing and everyone understood why you kept it a secret. No one is mad.”

            Bitty wrinkled his forehead. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’d understand if—”

            “Bitty.” Bitty looked up and Dex smiled at him. “Really. No one is mad.” Bitty’s forehead smoothed out slightly and Dex added, “If anything, I’m excited for all the fines you’re gonna rake up. We really need a new dryer.”

            Bitty laughed and shook his head. “You’re so bad.” He looked back to his cookies, which he was currently cutting to look like reindeer. He cut out Prancer and Dancer and then paused, frowning. He looked over at Dex. “If you weren’t talkin’ about me and Jack, what were you talkin’ about?”

            Whenever Dex got back to the bench after a long shift, he would chug water in between panting breaths, and he could always feel the coldness somewhere in his chest as it went down. He could feel that same thing now. He swallowed. “I…”

            “It’s alright if you don’t wanna say anything, hon—”

            “No,” Dex said, firm. “No I do, I just—” He looked down at his pie dough and screwed up his mouth. Bitty waited, quiet. Dex took a deep breath because he knew he _could_. “I’m—bisexual.”

            “Shit.” Dex spun around to see Lardo standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wide-eyed and looking right at Dex. “I don’t think I was supposed to hear that.”

            “Oh Lord. Okay. Okay. Hon, are you alright?” Dex blinked. It had taken so much just to admit it to Bitty and now Lardo had found out without Dex’s awareness and—and it wasn’t anything like people back home knowing without him telling them but— “Honey, we love you, okay? We accept you for whoever you are and we appreciate, so much, you telling us this very big, very important thing.” Bitty made urgent eyes at Lardo who unfroze from the doorway.

            Walking forward she said, “Yeah, dude, really. I’m sorry for the overhearing, I’d just been looking for cookies—but whatever. Okay, I know, and this is probably really fucking terrifying for you right now but—”

            “It’s not.”

            “—we’re here for—what?” Lardo stopped herself.

            Dex felt an impossible smile pull at his lips. “It’s—not. I’m not scared, I’m not—” He shook his head and looked up at Bitty, then Lardo. “I don’t know why, but I’m not.”

            And he wasn’t. It was like once he’d gotten past the barrier of the word caught behind his teeth, once it was out—he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t been saying it all along. He hadn’t been afraid of their reactions, he hadn’t been afraid that his feelings would change, he’d just been so used to being afraid that he’d forgotten all the reasons he needn’t be. And now the rock was off and he could breathe and he couldn’t fathom why he’d been carrying the damn thing around for so long.

            “That’s good, hon.” Bitty smiled, understanding curled between his lips. Lardo was smiling too, wide and proud, and Dex felt it warm the cold churl in his chest until it was all but gone.

            Then Dex remembered.

            “Um, Bitty?”

            “Yes, dear?”

            “You’ll edit that out of your video, right?”

            Bitty laughed, which made Dex smile, and Lardo took the moment of distraction to steal a bit of cookie dough out of the bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Kudos are lovely and I'd appreciate all you wanna give me, but comments are super _super_ encouraged, so please feel free to leave one! Also, if you've enjoyed reading this chapter, you can reblog [this post](http://likeshipsonthesea.tumblr.com/post/177524983525/the-arrangement-chapter-2) over on my Tumblr to share the fic with others!  
>  The next chapter should be up sometime this weekend thereabouts, so keep an eye out for that!  
> I hope you enjoyed and see y'all again soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, Mr. Jack.” Jack opened his mouth but Tango kept talking. “Do you think if you had known you liked Bitty when you were still at Samwell, you would have done something about it?”
> 
> Jack frowned. “I don’t know.” Holster and Ransom made “ooh” sounds reminiscent of high schoolers reacting to good gossip. Jack said, “No, I don’t mean that I would not want to, I just do not think I would have wanted to mess with team dynamics like that.”
> 
> “Makes sense,” Dex said, nodding. He took a sip of his beer.
> 
> “You really think so?” Dex looked to Nursey. He was frowning at Dex, squinting a little.
> 
> Dex shrugged. “The team is important.” Captain-player relationships were a recipe for disaster, in Dex’s opinion.
> 
> “Is there a no inter-team dating rule? I didn’t see one on the bylaw wall…” Tango frowned at the ground as his mind worked.
> 
> “There’s no rule, y’all,” Bitty said, dropping his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “It’s just this ridiculous hockey-crazed cutie pie has too-strict rules in his own mind.” Bitty wrinkled his nose. “Okay, I’m fining myself for that one. What did you put in these mimosas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! This chapter is where things get a bit more romantic and simultaneously a bit more platonic. That'll make sense in a little bit.  
>  **Warnings** for this chapter include: racism mention, insecurity exploration, mentions of anxiety, and I think that's it.  
>  In my opinion, Whiskey hits Peak _fucking tadpole_ level in this chapter, so get ready for that.  
>  Enjoy!

          “For real?” Shitty laughed, flailing the hand curled around a beer bottle, but it was mostly empty so none spilled out. “Jack motherfucking Zimmermann, you are the most oblivious motherfucker I’ve ever had the absolute pleasure of knowing.”

          “I really didn’t know,” Jack said, laughing a little too. His arm was around Bitty, who sat mostly in his lap on the floor, flushed from all the mimosas Holster had made for the we’re-back-at-Samwell brunch. “It wasn’t until graduation that I realized.”

          “And then you sprinted across campus to kiss Bits,” Nursey said flatly. He looked to Bitty. “You know that is like real-life rom-com bullshit, right?”

          Bitty giggled. “Yeah,” he said, completely unashamed, and snuggled further into Jack. Dex felt very deeply that it was worth at least twenty dollars in fines, but let it be.

          Holster did not. “Fine! Too fucking adorable, twenty-five bucks.” Jack just gestured at his wallet, which was open and sitting on the coffee table from the last fifteen fines. He seemed to have taken out extra cash before visiting in anticipation of it.

          “Can we afford the dryer yet?” Ransom asked as Holster went through Jack’s wallet, almost pocketing a frozen yogurt gift card before Jack scolded him.

          “Still need fifty bucks,” Dex said, nursing his own beer. “But we also need money for reinsulating the windows, replacing warped floorboards, getting new hardware for the sinks, fixing the showerhead in the hall bathroom—”

          “Okay, okay, we get it, Bob the Builder.” Ransom shook his head, reclining back on the couch. Holster joined him after collecting the cash. “There’s so much to do.”

          “But hey,” Nursey said, leaning over to throw an arm around Dex’s shoulders, more than a little tipsy, “at least we have our own Mr. Fix-It here to do the work for free.”

          “I take payment in the form of pies and leaving me _alone_ ,” Dex said as he shoved Nursey away, face probably red as all hell. Whiskey, from across the room, gave him a smirk and Dex made a face at him.

          “Mr. Zimmermann?” Tango asked.

          Jack winced. “Um, you can just call me Jack.”

          Tango nodded. “Okay, Mr. Jack.” Jack opened his mouth but Tango kept talking. “Do you think if you had known you liked Bitty when you were still at Samwell, you would have done something about it?”

          Jack frowned. “I don’t know.” Holster and Ransom made “ooh” sounds reminiscent of high schoolers reacting to good gossip. Jack said, “No, I don’t mean that I would not want to, I just do not think I would have wanted to mess with team dynamics like that.”

          “Makes sense,” Dex said, nodding. He took a sip of his beer.

          “You really think so?” Dex looked to Nursey. He was frowning at Dex, squinting a little.

          Dex shrugged. “The team is important.” Captain-player relationships were a recipe for disaster, in Dex’s opinion.

          “Is there a no inter-team dating rule? I didn’t see one on the bylaw wall…” Tango frowned at the ground as his mind worked.

          “There’s no rule, y’all,” Bitty said, dropping his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “It’s just this ridiculous hockey-crazed cutie pie has too-strict rules in his own mind.” Bitty wrinkled his nose. “Okay, I’m fining myself for that one. What did you put in these mimosas?”

          Everyone laughed amiably and Jack’s kissing of Bitty’s cheek earned them another fine. Dex got up to go start on the dishes because he knew Bitty wouldn’t want to wake up in the morning with a hangover and a dirty kitchen. As he started soaping a plate, Lardo joined him, looking at her phone as she walked up to him.

          “Do you want me to add you to the Bi Bi Bi Group Chat?” she asked.

          “What?”

          “We have a group chat for us unfortunate individuals who find everyone pretty and must therefore deal with the distraction.” She looked up from her phone. “It’s mostly Holster intermittently lamenting and celebrating the existence of yoga pants and Jack not knowing how to use emojis.”

          “Oh.” Dex blinked. “I—alright.”

          Lardo nodded. “Cool.” She walked away without another word.

          Dex looked down at his soapy plate and smiled.

 

*~*~*

 

          “I gotta admit, I miss being in a class with you, P-doodle.” Nursey was reclined on Dex’s bed with a laptop on his lap, writing an essay about some kind of literature thing Dex didn’t understand, and Dex had been trying to ignore him while he worked on his own history assignment because Nursey in his bed was Too Much to look at for long.

          “Yeah? What do you miss about it? Me yelling at you for talking during the class or me yelling at you for stealing my sticky notes or, oh! Me yelling at you for calling with questions about an assignment at three in the morning?”

          “Hmm, now that you mention it, I think it was all our fun talks.” Nursey grinned at his own joke. “But really, it was fun. We should take another class together next year.”

          “Alright, fine. It’s a date.” Dex tried to refocus on his essay, but only a few minutes later Nursey started talking again.

          “You know, I think we should do that.”

          “Do what?”

          “Go on dates.” It took a second to register to Dex exactly what Nursey had just said, but when he did, he turned incredulously to Nursey. Nursey smirked back at him.

          “ _What_?”

          “I mean friend dates. Chill, Dexy-do, I know you don’t play for my team.” The self-satisfied expression on Nursey’s face frankly pissed Dex off, and was probably most of the reason Dex said what he did next.

          “Okay, first of all? I’m bi, so fuck off. Second, _do not_ tell me to chill, and third,” Dex continued, as Nursey’s expression dropped into open-mouthed disbelief, “what the hell does “friend dates” mean?”

          “Um.” Nursey blinked quickly a few times. “I, uh, support you, and appreciate—”

          Dex waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. What are friend dates?”

          “Well, uh, I was just thinking that we’re going to be living together next year.” Dex sighed internally at the reminder that he was going to be around Nursey 24/7 without reprieve. He was going to implode from all the feelings, he was sure. “And being in a class together meant we had weekly bonding sessions, or whatever. I figure we should probably keep hanging out before we move in so we don’t, like, actually kill each other.”

          “We hang out all the time,” Dex said. He gestured between them. “We’re hanging out right now.”

          Nursey rolled his eyes as if Dex was being purposefully dense. He seemed to have recovered from Dex’s coming out. “I mean like actually sit and talk and learn about each other. A date but, like, platonic.”

          “That sounds ridiculous.”

          “Dude, come _on_. It took us months to be civil to one another. Don’t you think we should try and make the next two years hospitable by getting a head start?” Nursey wasn’t teasing him, that was obvious. Though he was smiling, his eyes rang sincere, and Dex held back the sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue to actually consider it. Of course, being on a date with someone he was halfway (mostly) in love with was probably a bad idea when the date was intended platonically, but learning to get along without fighting was probably very important to Dex actually staying in the Haus.

          “Alright,” Dex said, slowly, and Nursey’s smile widened into a grin. “But you can’t say chill at any time during the—dates.”

          Nursey’s grin turned into a pout. “What? Bro, no fair.”

          Dex smiled, hiding a laugh. Yeah, he was fucked.

 

*~*~*

 

          “Have you ever had a real relationship?”

          Dex looked up from between Whiskey’s legs, hoping that the expression on his face was conveying just how incredulous he felt. Whiskey looked down at him and rolled his eyes.

          “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a genuine question.”

          “I don’t doubt that,” Dex said, dropping Whiskey’s hips to rest back down on the bed. “I do doubt your ability to tell when it’s the right time to ask such a question.”

          “What’s wrong with asking now?”

          Dex squinted at him. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious.” Whiskey opened his mouth, probably to say more ridiculous things, and Dex cut him off. “I’m in the middle of _eating you out_.”

          “Well, if you’re gonna be picky.”

          Fucking _tadpoles_.

          Dex pulled back so he was sitting between Whiskey’s legs instead of lying between them. “I can’t believe you.”

          “You seem to have some free time now,” Whiskey said, wiggling his legs as if he was annoyed that Dex stopped because he was a ridiculous tadpole whose only goal in life seemed to be driving Dex crazy. “So. Have you?”

          “Oh my God.” Dex looked upwards for help and found none.

          “I have a reason for asking,” Whiskey added. This was the first thing that seemed to suggest he thought that this was strange at all.

          “What’s the reason?”

          “You first.”

          Dex sighed. “Yes, I’ve been in real relationships.”

          Whiskey squinted at him. “With who?” He didn’t believe Dex, apparently, the little fucker.

          “Fuck you,” Dex said. Whiskey raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “Girls back home.” Dex wrinkled his nose. “Well, sort of. Marlene was kind of just sex, and Isabelle was gay, but I was with Hailey for a year and a half.”

          “What was it like?” Suddenly, despite all the sweaty skin on display, Whiskey looked innocent, vulnerable. Dex hated him for his ability to switch demeanors that quickly.

          Dex turned to rest his back against the wall. He thought about it. “It was nice. I mean, she didn’t know I was—whatever. But when it’s good, you feel like you can talk about anything. She made me better. Freer.”

          “Why’d you break up?”

          “College. She was going to New York and I was coming here, and—” Dex sighed. “And I think my secret kind of pulled us apart. I was going to the Gay Ivy and people had always thought I was—and I couldn’t explain any of it to her.” He looked over at Whiskey to see he was already staring at Dex, frowning minutely. Dex smiled, small and tight. “We broke up because of distance.”

          Whiskey sat up and moved to sit next to Dex on the bed. “There was a reason I asked.” Dex hummed back. “I think I like Tony.”

          “What, like—?”

          “Yeah.”

          “Oof.”

          “Yeah.” Whiskey sighed. “I’ve never been in a real relationship before, or ever really had a best friend before, so I don’t know if I like him, like, romantically or if this is just platonic best friend stuff.” He looked over at Dex. “How did you know—”

          “No.” Dex ducked his head and looked down at his lap. He couldn’t—a lot of the time, it was manageable, and he could be around Nursey no problem, but sometimes his chest hurt and a swooping feeling overtook his stomach and everything was just screaming at him _it’s him, we know it’s him, why won’t you just_ —which only led to Dex remembering all the reasons he and Nursey would never happen, the most egregious of which was that Dex wasn’t anywhere near good enough for him. Not to mention the fact that Nursey seemed to only tolerate him because of how much he enjoyed pushing Dex’s buttons.

          Sometimes it was fine, but because of all the other times, he couldn’t sit here and pick apart his feelings for Whiskey. He just couldn’t.

          “Okay.” Whiskey’s hand fidgeted in his lap and Dex watched them for a few minutes before sighing.

          “What do you want to do?” he asked, looking up to Whiskey’s face.

          Whiskey blinked. “Right now?” He looked down at the bed before meeting Dex’s gaze again. “Right now I’d like to get off.”

          Dex shook his head, smiling a little. Fucking tadpoles. “Yeah, alright.”

 

*~*~*

 

          Nursey munched on a fry and threw a bunched up napkin down on the table between them. “Ok, but you have to admit that Joey was a better guy than Ross in every way.”

          “Sure,” Dex said around his own fry. “But the whole show had set up the will they/won’t they situation. They couldn’t just have her end up with Joey in the end, people would’ve rioted.”

          “You mean the nice-guy fuckboys watching would’ve rioted. Any fan who understood the nuances of the character would’ve been thrilled.” Nursey bit into a fry decisively, as if his point could not be refuted.

          Dex shook his head. “I still think they were better off as friends.”

          “Better Joey than _Ross_.” Nursey made a face as he said the name and Dex smiled.

          “Tired: Rachel should’ve been with Joey.” Nursey opened his mouth, eyes full of indignant rage, and Dex finished, “Wired: Rachel should’ve gone to France and been a kick-ass fashion exec single mother without either of them.”

          Nursey paused and then shut his mouth, nodding. “I concede to that.” He reached over and took one of Dex’s fries even though he had a pile of his own. “That was probably the least of the show’s problems, though, when I think about it.”

          “What other problems did it have?” Dex asked, frowning.

          Nursey gave him a flat look. “The number of POC characters on that show over the course of ten years was ridiculously small—especially considering it took place in New York City—, it looked down upon trans- people for cheap laughs, and the number of out-and-out gay jokes aside from just subtle homophobia was staggering.”

          Dex frowned. “Huh.”

          Nursey stole another fry and pointed it at Dex. “The more you know.”

          “Stop taking my fries,” Dex complained, putting his hand up to guard his plate. “You have your own.”

          “Yours are better.”

          “They are not. They’re the same fries you’ve got.”

          Nursey smiled. “My fries don’t come with a courtesy annoyed Poindoodle.”

          “Oh, fuck you.” Nursey’s smile widened into a grin and Dex shook his head, ducking his chin to hide his smile. They ate quietly for a minute or two. Dex finished his burger and picked up a napkin to wipe excess ketchup off his fingers. He looked at Nursey, considering. “Do you think Tango likes Whiskey?”

          Nursey looked up, eyebrows high. “Um, yeah? They’re like best friends.”

          “No, I mean—” Dex almost, _almost_ said “like-like” and only caught himself at the last second. Instead, he used his eyebrows to try and convey what he meant.

          Nursey stared at him like he was stupid for a few seconds before his eyes widened. “Oh, you mean—oh. Um. I don’t know. Maybe?”

          “Do you two talk about that stuff?” Dex asked.

          “Not really. I mean, Tango talks and asks about any and everything, but I haven’t asked him if he liked anybody on campus or anything.” He picked up one of his own fries, finally, and chewed thoughtfully. “I didn’t wanna be like Rans and Holster, you know? Like, they’re great and everything, but they were kind of, um, over-excited about getting us to hook up.”

          “Yeah. They gave me a list of girls willing to “celebrate” with me for my birthday.” Dex wrinkled his nose. “Not really casual.”

          “Exactly.” Nursey took a sip of his drink. “Why do you ask?”

          Dex shook his head. “No reason. I just thought they might make a cute couple.”

          Nursey laughed a little. “Poindexter Matchmaker. It almost rhymes.”

          Dex kicked him under the table. “Shut up. It’s nice to be with someone, I just wanted that for them.”

          “Yeah.” Nursey sat back in his chair. “I love Jack and Bits, but yeah. Sometimes seeing them all lovey and shit.” He shrugged. “Makes you want that.”

          Dex swallowed. “We’re surrounded by couples, I mean, it’s Jack and Bitty, C and Farms, Shitty and Lardo are definitely something, Ransom and Holster are—”

          “Ransom and Holster.” Nursey smiled, tight. “I get it.” His eyes were almost sad, maybe sympathetic? Oh fuck, was he feeling sorry for Dex? That was just what Dex needed, his crush to go and set him up on a date. Fuck. Nursey opened his mouth and Dex crossed his fingers, praying, _don’t say you can set me up, don’t_ — “Do you wanna ask for the check?”

          Dex tried not to sigh visibly in relief. “Yeah.”

 

*~*~*

 

          “Ugh. It sucks to be in love.”

          “Putty knife.” Dex held his hand out and Whiskey moodily put the tool in it. Dex wasn’t looking, but he would bet a decent amount of money that Whiskey was pouting.

          “You’re not even listening to me.”

          “I was listening to you, the first, fourth, and forty-sixth times, but it’s all gotten kind of repetitive at this point.” Dex frowned as he tried to scrape out window glazing that was probably put here before he was born. “He’s so cute, he’s so kind, he’s got such an interesting mind.” The knife finally caught and the glazing began to come out. Dex sighed. “I get it. It sucks.”

          “But how do you deal with it?” Whiskey slid to the ground next to Dex, just a hint of a whine in his voice.

          “Deep repression and/or drinking.” Dex turned to him and held out the putty knife for him to take.

          Whiskey did, sullenly, and frowned at Dex. “That’s horrible advice.”

          “Never said I was a role model.” Dex stood up to check that he’d gotten all of the glazing. Whiskey stared at him forlornly while Dex did it, which was decently distracting. Dex picked up the pane he’d had cut and held it against the opening. He’d measured twice and everything, but he hadn’t felt confident until he could see with his own eyes that it would fit. He grabbed some glazier’s points to put into the frame around the window and, once he’d finished, he held his hand out to Whiskey. “Glazing caulk.”

          Whiskey wrinkled his nose at Dex. “What kind of cock?”

          “Caulk,” Dex enunciated, and Whiskey just kept frowning. “The tube, right there.” Whiskey handed it over as Dex shook his head at Whiskey’s ridiculousness. He carefully started applying the glaze to the corners of the window pane.

          “How’d they even break the window in the first place?” Whiskey asked, grumbling. Ransom and Holster had called at 1:00 A.M. last night, frantic, about their broken window. All Dex really gleaned from that conversation was that there’d been an incident with a frozen jock strap and that it was snowing, so could Dex come quick? Dex had duct taped it closed for the night and went to the hardware store after his class this morning to get a pane cut for it.

          “I’m pretty sure Ransom froze Holster’s jock for some kind of reason and something happened to make Holster fling it at the window. I didn’t ask for more details.”

          “You know, with stories like that, you’ve gotta understand why the LAX bros, and most of the campus, thinks we’re obnoxious.”

          “We _are_ obnoxious.” Dex took a step back to see if the glaze was even. It was. He grinned down at Whiskey. “It’s a part of our charm.”

          Whiskey huffed. “I think it’s just that a majority of the team is supernaturally attractive and we get away with shit.”

          Dex shrugged. “Probably that too.” He held out his hand. “Putty knife.”

          “Do you really not have any tips on dealing with an unrequited crush?” Whiskey handed over the tool and Dex moved back to the window, holding the knife at an angle so he could scrape away excess glaze and make it look nice. He felt Whiskey watching him, but focused on his work. He finished, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the glaze off the knife, and looked down at Whiskey.

          Dex gave him a sad smile. “If I discover any, I’ll let you know.”

 

*~*~*

 

          “Does it even count as a friend date if we’re at a movie?” Dex asked as they waited on line for popcorn. “We won’t be talking.”

          “I see your point,” Nursey said. He was already pulling out his wallet to pay for the food, and Dex would argue but he paid for the tickets, so it was the compromise they arrived at. Mostly because Nursey had the biggest sweet tooth ever and was probably going to buy enough candy to get them through next winter. “But I’ve wanted to see this for a while, and you’re a nerd, so it works.”

          “It’s just gonna be a bunch of gratuitous violence and dick jokes,” Dex grumbled, for probably the fourth time that day.

          Nursey rolled his eyes. “It’s either Deadpool or that weird furry movie meant for kids, so. You choose.”

          “Apparently Zootopia makes some good points about racism and the danger of white bureaucrats.” Dex sniffed, aiming to emulate some haughty person Nursey would’ve known at Andover, and Nursey snorted.

          “I don’t need a kids’ movie to teach me about racism, thanks.” Huh. Nursey got him there.

          They stepped up to the counter and Nursey ordered a ridiculous amount of food, which Dex was then tasked with monitoring while Nursey made a preemptive trip to the bathroom. Dex felt pretty stupid sitting on a bench with two jumbo sized popcorns, two big-ass sodas that were apparently “small”, and about six different kinds of candy boxes. This feeling was magnified significantly when he saw Whiskey’s brother, Isaac, and another LAX bro coming out of the theater right next to him.

          Isaac blinked and stopped. “Dex?”

          Dex pulled on a smile and stood up. “Hey, Isaac. What’s up?”

          He gestured at the theater. “Adam and I went to see Deadpool.”

          “Oh, Nursey and I are about to go in.” Dex waved his hand at the food behind him awkwardly. “Most of this is his.”

          Isaac laughed amicably. “That NCAA diet, I get it.” He smiled. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for that day at the hockey frat. Connor hadn’t told me you weren’t open about all that.”

          “Well.” Dex winced slightly. “It wasn’t the easiest thing to explain, I’m sure.”

          “Not really, no.” He laughed again. “But he explained everything afterwards and I’m really grateful that he’s got someone like you on the team.”

          Dex fidgeted, awkward. “I mean, he’s got Tango.” Isaac squinted at him and Dex amended, “Tony.”

          “Oh, yeah, well. There’s a difference between a best friend and mentor-type person. I’m just really glad that Connor’s comfortable with the hockey team now, and he said you were a big part of that.” Isaac reached out and squeezed Dex’s shoulder in a fatherly-type action, which was weird both because Dex was currently fucking his little brother and he was a good three inches taller than Isaac.

          “Okay, Salty-doodle, I’m—” Nursey stopped, looking between Dex and Isaac (sparing only a glance for poor Adam, who looked hopelessly confused). “Oh, Isaac, hey.”

          “Nursey, hi.” Isaac gave him a smile before dropping his hand from Dex’s shoulder and taking a step back. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Enjoy the movie.”

          “Thanks. See you.” Dex watched them walk away for a minute before letting out a breath. He’d never met an older brother of someone he was with before. Hailey had an older sister, but she liked Dex, and her dad had been Dex’s hockey coach back in elementary school, so there’d never been a level of intimidation. It was incredibly weird to speak to Whiskey’s brother when he knew they were fucking. How much detail had Whiskey gone into? It freaked Dex out to even think about.

          “Nice dude,” Nursey said, as he collected his food. Dex graciously volunteered to carry the drinks and a popcorn. They started towards their theatre.

          “Yeah, really. I don’t know how he stomachs the other LAX bros.” Dex pulled the door open to let Nursey in and he bowed as he went through. Dex shook his head at him.

          “They’re not all bad,” Nursey said, searching for their seats. “I mean, most of them are horrible. But Isaac isn’t bad, and that guy Adam’s never been a dick to me. I worked with this Sean guy on a science project once.” Dex tried to hide his reaction at that— _fuck_ Nursey knew Sean, Dex’s fuck buddy Sean—but Nursey was too busy finding their number to pay attention to Dex’s face. (Side note: there was probably a reason Dex had so many fuck buddies instead of actual relationships, right? Luke, Marlene, Sean, Whiskey. Insecurity? Probably.)

          “Whiskey can tolerate them, so they can’t be horrible constantly.” They settled into their seats. After putting his popcorn between his legs, stacking his candy on his thighs, and squeezing his drink into a cup holder, Nursey settled Dex with a look.

          “You and Whiskey are pretty close,” he said. His voice was loaded and Dex didn’t appreciate that very much.

          “He’s my tadpole,” Dex said, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair. “Like Tango’s yours.”

          “Mhmm.” Nursey didn’t look satisfied, but the previews started just as he opened his mouth to say more, and the reason they’d come so early in the first place was because Nursey liked the previews so much, so they quieted down.

          They did not talk during the movie, as Dex predicted, but it was still really nice to spend time with Nursey, laughing and marveling at Deadpool’s skill. They came out closer, at least, as they were both newly converted fans of Negasonic Teenage Warhead.

 

*~*~*

 

          “What do you think I should do about Tony?” Whiskey asked, as he bit his way down Dex’s chest. Dex huffed, staring at the ceiling as if it was a camera on The Office.

          “Stop asking me about it, that’s what.” Whiskey scraped his teeth against the skin just under Dex’s belly button and he inhaled sharply. Whiskey looked up at him flatly.

          “You’re supposed to be helpful.”

          “You’re supposed to be sucking me off,” Dex pointed out, “but we don’t all get what we want.”

          Whiskey glared at Dex and then proceeded to give him the most spiteful blowjob Dex had ever received.

          About half an hour later, they laid in the hotel bed, sweaty and panting lightly. Dex nudged Whiskey in the foot and asked, “What do you want to do?”

          Whiskey fidgeted. “I don’t know. Not what I’ve been doing.”

          “Which is?”

          Whiskey dropped his head to the side to look forlornly at Dex. “Pine and stare at him creepily while he goes off on question rants.”

          Dex winced. “Yeah, that doesn’t seem so productive.”

          Whiskey sighed. “I want to tell him but I don’t want to risk our friendship.” He looked at Dex, hesitant, for a few moments, and then asked, “Why haven’t you told—”

          “Because there’s no point,” Dex said, probably too harsh. He swallowed. “I know it’s not going to go anywhere, okay?” He shook his head. “You just have to find out if Tango likes you back, or is open to trying.”

          “And how the fuck do I do that?”

          Dex considered not telling him but ultimately decided that it might help mellow all of the pining, or at least the out-loud pining. “Don’t get mad, but I asked Nursey if he thought Tango liked you, like romantically.”

          Whiskey’s eyes widened. “What, _Dex_ —”

          “I didn’t tell him about your feelings,” Dex said, sitting up to go and get a washcloth to clean up with. “I pretended like I was thinking about setting you two up or something.”

          “Oh yeah, because you’re such a well-known matchmaker,” Whiskey said, a little too sarcastic for someone who was about to be brought a wet washcloth to clean the cum off his stomach with.

          “Don’t worry, Nursey made fun of me for that too.” Dex returned a minute later with the washcloth and threw it to Whiskey. It hit him in the stomach with a _fwap_ and Whiskey wrinkled his nose.

          “Thanks,” he said, again sarcastic. Insolent tadpole. Dex rifled through his bag for a pair of sweatpants and tugged them on before going to sleep in the bed they hadn’t mussed up yet. Once he’d settled in, he looked up to see Whiskey standing by the bed.

          “Um, hello?”

          “That bed’s all sweaty.” Dex groaned, which made Whiskey grin and jump in with him.

          “You’re such a cuddler,” Dex grumbled. Whiskey wriggled around until his back was pressed to Dex’s side, forcing Dex to wrap an arm around him to avoid it getting squished.

          “Shut up. You are too.” Whiskey wiggled once more before settling in. Dex sighed and tried to relax into sleep. They had an early wake-up call in the morning and he needed all the rest he could get after tonight’s game. This season hadn’t been going great, and if the pattern they were currently on continued, they wouldn’t make playoffs. Then again, most of them were fine with that because the Falcs were doing so amazingly that it mellowed the sting. They’d known they were losing Jack, and thus Jack and Bitty’s chemistry, and they were still figuring out how to work with their new dynamic. Dex was sure that, next season, with Bitty captain and all of them more used to each other, they’d be fire once again.

          “Hey, Dex?”

          “Hmm?” Dex was very close to falling asleep and he really hoped Whiskey didn’t ruin it with one of his rare, out-of-nowhere, emotionally upsetting questions.

          “Why do you think it wouldn’t go anywhere with Nursey?”

          Dex squeezed his eyes shut. “I know, Whiskey, okay? I just—I know.” He opened his eyes to see nothing but the dark. “Go to sleep.”

 

*~*~*

 

          Due to a project Nursey had in one of his classes and a lengthy essay Dex had due soon, their biweekly friend date was pushed to overlap with their workouts. They’d done about five of their hang out sessions over the past two and a half months, and though Dex was loathe to admit it to Nursey, they had been working. They’d developed inside jokes, learned a lot more about each other’s families and childhoods, come to an understanding on some issues and an agreement to disagree on others. With each “date”, Dex’s confidence that they could actually live together next year grew.

          That was not to say that Nursey still wasn’t a butt.

          They were both panting as they got off the treadmills, because Nursey was a competitive fuck (and so was Dex, but whatever) and they’d kept upping the speeds of their treadmills, trying to overtake one another, and now they were both about to pass out from running so hard.

          Once they reached their bags, they guzzled down water to try and replenish their fluids. Dex glared at Nursey over his water bottle. Nursey just smirked back because he was a _butt_.

          “You hate running,” Dex said when he could finally breathe again.

          “Yeah, but watching you get all sweaty and flustered was definitely worth it.” Dex’s chest clenched at the almost-flirty-but-definitely-just-teasing words and attempted to add heat to his glare.

          “Fuck you,” he said, enunciating clearly, and Nursey laughed as Dex walked away. Nursey grabbed his bag and jogged for a second to catch up to Dex.

          “Don’t say that. You’ll regret it when I tell you what I did for you.” A glance at Nursey showed that he was grinning wide enough that it must’ve hurt his cheeks.

          Wary, Dex asked, “What did you do now?”

          “No really. You’re gonna love me for this.” Dex shoved the thought, _I already do_ , into a hole where it belonged. “I was with Tangs yesterday and I asked him if he had his eye on anybody and he got mad flustered.”

          Dex turned his head so quickly he heard a _click_ in his neck. “What? Really?”

          “Yup.” Nursey had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and usually that would piss Dex off, but his interest in Tango’s reaction was currently more important.

          “Did he say anything about who it was?” Dex had been fortunate enough that Nursey hadn’t dated anyone—or at least Dex hadn’t heard about it—since Dex had figured out his feelings. He really didn’t want Whiskey to have to deal with an unrequited crush on his best friend who was in love with someone else.

          “He didn’t. But when I asked if it was someone I knew, he changed the subject.” Nursey waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Dex was too excited to even scold him for it. Not only would Whiskey _stop_ having to complain-pine to Dex, he would get to be with Tango and be happy. Of course, Dex would lose his go-to for good sex and stress relief, but he thought Whiskey’s happiness was worth more than that anyway.

          “That’s ‘swawesome,” Dex said, smiling already at the thought of it. He tried not to get his hopes up—Tango might not like Whiskey—but he could see it. Though Tango was open with everyone, he got softer around Whiskey. Whiskey indulged his need to learn but quieted his hyper energy, and Tango concurrently brought Whiskey’s livelier side out in a way Dex hadn’t seen Whiskey be any other time (aside from, maybe, in bed.)

          “Yeah, yeah, the taddies are in love, it’s great.” Nursey grinned. “Have you seen the new B-99 yet?” Dex shook his head. “Come on, dude, you’ve gotta catch up before the finale. I am not watching that alone or with Holster.” Nursey shuddered. “He gets mad hyper about TV.”

          “I’ll catch up,” Dex said. He held the door open to the locker room and Nursey went through.

          “If you don’t, I’m gonna call an emergency friend date and we’ll sit in your dorm and watch it.” Nursey walked over to the lockers they’d commandeered prior to their workout. Dex joined him.

          “It’s always in my dorm. What’s wrong with yours?” Dex tugged off his sweaty shirt and debated if he should rinse off before putting on new clothes.

          “I have a roommate, Dexington.” Dex had to force himself not to send Nursey a glare, mostly because Nursey was half-naked next to him and Dex had long-since internalized the “no look” rule.

          “He’s not there all the time,” Dex countered. He decided to shower when he got back to his dorm and pulled his new shirt on over his sweaty skin. He wrinkled his nose at the feeling.

          “Yeah, but there’s always the possibility of him walking in.” Nursey shut his locker, bag slung over his shoulder. “I don’t—I’m not good at sharing a space.”

          “That’s great news for me,” Dex said, sarcastic. He closed his own locker and turned to give Nursey and unimpressed look.

          “Not—I mean with a stranger. I need quiet sometimes, just a place where I can sit and do nothing for a little bit. With you, I don’t mind telling you to fuck off or, just, you know, asking you to leave.” Nursey pulled the locker room door open. “I can’t say that to him. So I get fidgety and anxious and all this shit.” He sounded honestly frustrated. Dex frowned.

          “Can’t you go to the library or someplace?” Dex walked through the door, followed by Nursey.

          “It’s not the same. I wanna feel comfortable and alone for a while.” Nursey shrugged. “I’ll just have to wait until the summer.”

          “I mean, I’ve got an extra room key.”

          Nursey looked at him sharply. “What? No. It’s your room.”

          “I’m not in there constantly,” Dex said as they left the gym. “As long as you knock or whatever, I don’t mind.”

          “Are you sure?”

          “Yes.” Dex looked over at Nursey and gave him a smile. “We are gonna be living together. And if this helps, of course I want to do it.”

          Nursey smiled back, sincere, for a few moments before it got to be too much for them. He nudged Dex in the side and said, “This is a big step, Dexy-do. We’ve only been on a few dates and already you’re giving me a key.”

          Dex rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

          “No, no, I’ve gotta go call my mom and tell her. She’ll be so happy!” Nursey pretended to fall over as if fainting, but it was icy out and he ended up actually slipping, which forced Dex to catch him.

          “I’m so close to just dropping you and leaving,” Dex said, huffy, but he was totally lying. Fuck, he was gone for this clumsy asshole.

 

*~*~*

 

          There was a knock on Dex’s dorm door so he stood to answer it. Whiskey pushed into the room without hesitation, shutting the door closed behind him and pressing Dex into it. Dex couldn’t get a word in before Whiskey was kissing him, hands pulling at Dex’s sweatshirt greedily.

          “Whiskey,” Dex said, turning his head to the side. Whiskey just went down towards his neck. “Dude, what’s up?”

          “I was watching the Falcs game and Mashkov checked this guy _so well_ , ugh.” Whiskey rutted against Dex’s leg. “I think you’ve given me a d-man complex.”

          “I think you developed this complex all on your own,” Dex said, breathless at how hard Whiskey was. Still, it didn’t feel right to have sex with Whiskey with the information Nursey had given him yesterday, so he reached out and held Whiskey’s hips still.

          Whiskey moaned. “Fuck.” Oh yeah, he liked being manhandled. Ugh.

          “Dude, hold up a sec, okay?” Whiskey pulled back, pupils blown wide and mouth already pink from where Dex hadn’t shaved in a few days. “Fuck, okay. I have to tell you something.”

          Whiskey swallowed and took half a step back. “What’s up?”

          “It’s about Tango.”

          Whiskey stiffened but only nodded in response.

          “I was talking to Nursey yesterday and he said he’d bugged Tango about if he liked anyone, and Tango got really flustered.” Whiskey didn’t react so Dex kept going. “Then Nursey asked if it was someone he knew and Tangs changed the subject really fast.”

          Whiskey stared at nothing for a few seconds before he stumbled back and sat down hard on Dex’s bed. “He…” His hands were clenched tightly around his knees.

          “It’s not definitive, but I think, well.” Dex smiled. “I think it’s likely that he’s talking about you.”

          Whiskey looked up sharply. “You think so?”

          “The people both Tango and Nursey know is limited to about the team, and the only person he’s close enough with on the team to be harboring a secret crush for is you. I think.” Dex knelt down on the ground in front of Whiskey. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I think, if you really want to pursue this, now is the time to bring it up.”

          “I…whoa.” Whiskey swallowed visibly. He shook his head. “I don’t—I…”

          “You don’t have to make a decision now. Think about it.” Dex patted the side of Whiskey’s thigh. “I just wanted you to know.”

          Whiskey nodded slowly. “Thank you. For telling me.” He looked up to meet Dex’s eyes. “This is—terrifying.”

          Dex smiled tightly. “I know.”

          Whiskey exhaled through his nose. He nodded once, twice. Then; “Can we have sex so I stop thinking about it for a while?”

          Dex looked back at him, scanning his expression, but he couldn’t find any indication of where Whiskey’s head was at. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

          “Yes. No. I don’t know. I want it, though.” His eyes lifted from the ground. “Please?”

          Dex didn’t move for a good minute. This would likely be the last time they had sex. He was caught in thinking about the reason they’d started, to give Whiskey experience before something real happened, give him a first time better than Dex’s. Dex thought he’d accomplished that goal, but he didn’t know if he’d call what they’d done “fake”. Romantic or not, this relationship was one of the realest he’d ever had, and his chest suddenly swelled with a gratefulness towards Whiskey he hadn’t known he’d held.

          Whiskey was a _fucking tadpole_ but he’d taught Dex a whole heck of a lot.

          Cautiously, Dex reached up to cup Whiskey’s cheek and brought their lips together into something he hoped said as many _thank yous_ as he felt.

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex woke up to a knock on his door. He was groggy, warm—maybe too warm? There was someone in his bed. He pulled his eyes open to see Whiskey lying next to him, asleep and drooling a little on Dex’s arm. Dex frowned. Who was knocking?

          “Dex? Are you in there?” Oh shit.

          “Whiskey,” Dex urgent-whispered. Whiskey stirred only slightly. He called to Nursey, “I’m here!”

          “We’re gonna be late for practice,” Nursey said through the door. Dex looked at the clock next to his bed and saw that Nursey was right. They usually walked to practice together because their rooms were so close, and it was usually Dex going to Nursey’s dorm to wake him up because Nursey was not a morning person. Turns out all it took to make Dex into the same was a bit of sex and cuddling. Go figure.

          “You should go without me,” Dex called. Whiskey had begun to stir, asking “Wha’s goin’ on?” and Dex shushed him furiously. “I woke up late, I’ll meet you there.”

          “Is everything okay?” Nursey asked. “Are you sick?”

          “No, I just—” Dex covered Whiskey’s mouth as he went to say something. “No, I just slept in. I have to get ready, but I’ll be there.”

          “I can wait for you—” Nursey started to say.

          “No!” Whiskey’s eyes were wide above Dex’s hand. “No, no it’s okay. You go.”

          There was some silence. Dex held his breath. “Are you sure everything’s alright? If you need help or something, I can come in. I have your key.”

          Dex tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “Really, Nursey, I’m good.”

          “Someone’s overprotective,” Whiskey muttered under Dex’s palm.

          “What was that?”

          “Nothing!” Dex glared at Whiskey, who raised his eyebrows lazily in response.

          “…alright,” Nursey finally said. Dex waited to hear his footsteps walking away before he sighed, taking his hand off Whiskey’s mouth.

          “He has your key?” Whiskey asked, smirking slightly.

          “Oh fuck you.” Dex sat up, running his hands through his hair. He was due for a haircut but couldn’t be fucked at this point. Maybe he’d try it long for a while.

          “He was pretty worried.”

          “Whiskey.”

          Whiskey sat up next to Dex. “I’m just saying—”

          “Well don’t.” Dex got out of bed and went through his drawers for some clothes to wear to practice.

          “I don’t get why you think it’s so out of the realm of possibility.” Dex heard Whiskey get out of bed behind him. “You think Tony could like me back. Why couldn’t Nursey like you back?”

          Dex spun around, feeling desperate. “Because I’m me, okay? I’m not—this isn’t the same as you and Tango.”

          Whiskey’s eyes got soft the way they almost never did. “Dex…”

          “No.” Dex cleared his throat. “I don’t want to talk about this. We’re late for practice.”

          They dressed in silence. Dex leant Whiskey a Samwell sweatshirt that was general enough to be something he owned. They left Dex’s building and started towards the rink. Dex could feel the oppressiveness of the unsaid things between them, but he couldn’t breach it without opening himself up to more of that conversation.

          “I’m sorry,” Whiskey said, as Faber came into their view. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

          Dex deflated slightly. “Don’t—it’s alright. It’s just my thing, I don’t—I’m not—”

          “It’s alright.” Whiskey turned to smile at him, small and a bit sad. “Thanks. For everything.”

They stopped outside Faber.

          Dex smiled back, wide and honest. “You, too. Good luck with Tony.”

          Whiskey inhaled slowly, stutter-smiling and nodding. “Yeah.”

          Dex gestured at the entrance to Faber. “You go first. I don’t want anyone thinking we showed up together, late.” Whiskey nodded and moved to enter the building. He only looked back once, one of his _fucking tadpole_ smile-smirks on his face. Dex shook his head at him, grinning back just the same.

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex’s muscles ached from the suicides Ransom and Holster made him skate for being late, so he spent an extra minute under the warm spray of the shower. When he exited the showers, everyone was about ready to go, so by the time he pulled on his sweatpants, a decent portion of the team was gone. Nursey (whose locker was right next to his after Ollie moved—it was really hard to have a locker between them during that first semester—and Ransom moved his next to Holster’s “because Captain Buddy Cubbies are a thing Dex”) was one of the few left.

          He glanced over, shifting uncomfortably next to Dex. Dex had no idea why. It couldn’t have been the first time he didn’t walk to Faber with Nursey. It wasn’t like this was totally unprecedented. Nursey acting like Dex had betrayed him somehow was fairly irksome and close to pissing Dex off.

          “Can I help you?” Dex asked, huffy, after the third time Nursey glanced over in a minute.

          Nursey looked up to Dex’s face and it was the first indication Dex had that he hadn’t been looking at Dex’s face the whole time. “What?” Nursey said. Dex looked down to see what Nursey could have possibly been looking at and—oh.

          On Dex’s hip, big and visible, there was a purple-red hickey.

          Dex looked back up to see a strange expression on Nursey’s face. “I—” Nursey stopped, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Was someone there? This morning?”

          Dex stuttered. “Nursey, I—”

          “Tony,” Dex heard, said shakily, from behind him. He turned to see Whiskey standing in front of Tango’s locker, his bag over his shoulder as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Do you want to—grab a coffee with me?”

          “Sure,” Tango said cheerily, standing with his own bag. “At Annie’s?”

          “Yeah.” Whiskey and Tango started to walk out. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Dex watched them leave, a small smile fighting to escape from his lips. _Please let them have this_ , Dex thought fervently.

          “Whiskey likes him, doesn’t he?” Nursey asked, quiet.

          Dex looked to Nursey, who hadn’t looked away from the door Whiskey and Tango had left by. “Yeah,” Dex said, only because he really believed Tango would return the feelings.

          Nursey smiled, small and into the distance. “I hope it works out for them.”

 

*~*~*

 

          On an afternoon not long after, Dex’s arms were covered in flour and he was ranting to Bitty about the one guy in his group project that was just refusing to do any work. “…and we’ve set up countless times to work on it and he showed up to one, and he was almost definitely high when he did. I can’t believe this guy, he’s so infuriating—”

          “Complaining about won’t-work guy again?” Dex looked over to see Nursey had arrived. He grinned, walking over.

          Dex scowled at him. “He’s annoying.”

          “Yet you won’t stop talking about him,” Nursey said, peering over Dex’s shoulder and taking a piece of cookie dough. Dex batted his hand away but it was too late.

          “Because I _hate_ him,” Dex said, moving his body closer to the mixing bowl to keep Nursey from stealing another piece.

          “I don’t know, hon,” Bitty said as he opened the oven to check on the pie baking. It was almost done, Dex was pretty sure, but it didn’t affect his cookies much, as Dex needed to chill his cookie dough before baking them anyway. Bitty stood up, closing the oven. “They say there’s only a fine line between love and hate.”

          “Hate and lust maybe,” Dex muttered. Louder, he said, “I don’t like this guy at all. He’s not attractive, he has no work ethic, I’m like _this_ close to reporting him to our professor—”

          Bitty laughed kindly. “Alright, alright, I believe you.” He shook his head, smiling at Dex’s ridiculousness. On the counter, his phone started buzzing—probably Jack—and he picked it up, checked the screen, and left the room to answer it.

          “What’d you mean about “hate and lust”?” Nursey asked, hovering too close for Dex’s comfort. Nursey was not getting any more of this cookie dough before it was baked.

          “I don’t think you can love someone you hate,” Dex said, grabbing some saran-wrap to cover the top of the mixing bowl. “But I do think you can have sex with someone you hate.”

          “You mean hate sex?” Dex hummed back affirmatively. “Like, a fuck-buddies except fuck-enemies?”

          “People do have casual relationships like that,” Dex said, probably a bit condescending but whatever.

          “Do my ears deceive me, or are you implying that you, William Josiah Poindexter, would be down with a just-sex relationship?” Turning around to regard Nursey with a flat look revealed a big, annoying grin on Nursey’s face. It was tinged, vaguely, with something strange, put-upon or exaggerated. Dex frowned at it but wasn’t sure enough to call Nursey on it.

          “You know my middle name is Jacob.”

          Nursey wiggled his finger at Dex. “Someone’s avoiding the question.” Dex just raised his eyebrows in response. Nursey barked a laugh. “Mr. Poindexter! What a rascal you are.”

          Dex smiled and tried to stifle it, shaking his head. “It’s really not as glamorous as you think.”

          “Tell me about it, then.” Nursey grinned, settling back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t look like he was letting this go any time soon, but all his movements seemed almost like caricatures of a best friend rather than how Nursey genuinely felt. Dex didn’t know what it was but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Nursey was putting on a show for him.

          Dex sighed. He didn’t have the energy to figure out what was going on, and it was probably best to just give in and get through it. He held up a finger for each person he named, trying to appear flippant. “Marlene was looking for a relationship, but we were young at the time and I didn’t want anything serious. Sean was just fun and probably due mostly to my new freedom at being here. Luke—”

          “Wait, wait. Sean as in the LAX bro Sean?” Nursey’s eyes and grin impossibly widened.

          Dex choked. “Shit, no—”

          Nursey laughed, short and loud. “I can’t believe you!”

          “Keep your voice down!” Dex whisper-shouted.

          Nursey’s grin softened. “Dude. I can’t believe you, messing around with the LAX bros.” He shook his head. “I’m almost proud.”

          “Yeah? You can stick your pride up your—”

          “Boys?” Bitty stuck his head into the room, phone pressed against his chest. “Everything alright?”

          “Everything’s just _dandy_ , Bits,” Nursey said back cheerily.

          Bitty smiled, Southern silicone politeness. “Oh, well, good. Could y’all keep it down then? Thanks.” He disappeared again.

          “Savage,” Nursey muttered under his breath. Dex snorted and turned to put his cookie dough in the fridge. “So what about Luke?” Dex felt himself tense. He’d just been naming people quickly, trying to be a dick, and he’d forgotten that Luke was—Luke. He turned around and whatever look must’ve been on his face drained Nursey’s expression of its jocularity. “Dex?”

          “Luke was my captain, when I was in high school.”

          Nursey’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were the captain of your team in high school.”

          “He was captain when I was a freshman. I took over the next year when he went to college.” Dex watched Nursey’s eyes as he did the math on that one. Dex swallowed. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Not that I would’ve. Middle school had been bad enough and there were only rumors then.”

          “Dex, you don’t have to—”

          “I want to.” Nursey nodded once, sober, watching Dex carefully, accepting. “I’ve never—talked. About him. Before. I mean, he was my—you know. And whenever he came back into town, we’d—I don’t know.” Dex shrugged. “He was Luke Rossi, star hockey player, jock. When he picked me, faggy little Will Poindexter—sorry.” Nursey winced at Dex’s adjective. “It just felt—I would’ve done anything to keep feeling that way.” Dex wasn’t saying it right, but he didn’t know how to put it. Luke hadn’t been _bad_ but sometimes Dex thought about him and something in his stomach churned and he just—he wished things were different, somehow.

          Nursey seemed to understand anyway, or at least Dex felt like he did. Nursey walked over and joined Dex, standing next to him, their backs to the counter. “High school sucks,” Nursey said, honest and simple and a bit angry. Dex huffed something adjacent to a laugh.

          “Yeah.” They stood silent for a minute, likely thinking back on everything they’d left behind, gladly or not.

          “You know,” Nursey said after a while, “I had a mental breakdown my sophomore year.”

          “You don’t have to—” Dex didn’t want Nursey to share out of some screwed up obligation.

          “I want to,” Nursey said, and though he was mimicking Dex, his voice was kind. “It was the night before my chem final and I couldn’t remember the properties of the groups on the periodic table and I just—I couldn’t make myself remember them. My roommate found me having a panic attack over a stack of flash-cards and called the RA, who got the nurse, and, anyway. They put me on anti-anxiety meds. My mama nearly pulled me out of school. It was one time, but after that. Well. You know how high school works.” Nursey looked over to give Dex a tight smile. “Everyone knew about it by morning.”

          Dex looked back at him and swallowed. He thought, in that moment, that he understood what Bitty meant with his thing about sharing. It wasn’t that he now knew this information about Nursey, or that Nursey knew about Luke, but it was the fact that they’d felt comfortable enough to share, to say it aloud and risk the judgement knowing they were safe in the other person’s company. _This_ was what friendship must be.

          “Hey, guys.” They both looked over to see Whiskey and Tango walking into the room. Tango was beaming and Whiskey wasn’t even trying to stifle his smile. Their fingers were intertwined between them.

          It’d been a week since Whiskey told Dex that Tango wanted to try a relationship, a week since he’d said that they wanted to keep it quiet for a little bit, test it out before telling the team. Dex smiled, seeing them together now, because it meant, most likely, that this was and would continue to be serious.

          The smile and the happiness were genuine, but despite it all, Dex couldn’t help the ache in his chest as he thought _I want that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated, and if you would like to support this fic on Tumblr, you can head over and reblog [this post](http://likeshipsonthesea.tumblr.com/post/177670847060/the-arrangement-chapter-3) to share the love.  
> I don't know exactly when the next chapter will be up, as I am currently at pre-orientation at college, which will be followed by actual orientation and then college itself, so we'll see when I've got the chance to update. I will try not to let it be more than a week, though, as I'm sure some of y'all are thirsting for some real promised nurseydex content, which is coming. I promise!!  
> Thanks for reading and check back soon for the final chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whiskey is insufferable when he’s in a relationship,” Dex said, grumpily taking a bite of his Chinese food. “Or at least when he’s in a relationship with Tango.”
> 
> “I don’t know,” Nursey said, bending his head ridiculously to try and get the chicken between his chopsticks into his mouth. “I think they’re pretty cute.”
> 
> “Yeah, when they’re silent, maybe.” Dex reached for the lo mein, exchanging his white rice. “Whiskey revels in Tango’s social unawareness and actually encourages it to the detriment of those around him.”
> 
> “Aw, come on, they’re a new couple. Cut them some slack.” Nursey smiled, reclining back against the frame of Dex’s bed. He, too, seemed amused by Dex’s annoyance. Dex needed new friends.
> 
> “They’ve been together for like a month now,” Dex grumbled around some chicken. “Can’t they be through the honeymoon period at this point?”
> 
> Nursey poked Dex in the leg with his foot. “Stop being a Love Scrooge.”
> 
> Dex wrinkled his nose. “That’s not a thing.”
> 
> “It totally is.”
> 
> “No it’s not.”
> 
> “Uh-huh. I’m the love expert, I get to decide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Thank you to everyone who stuck with me during this semi-long hiatus thing, pre-orientation and orientation and actual college have just been consuming all of my time and even though I'm sick right now (freshman plague ugh) I'm so happy to finally be uploading this for y'all!  
> I really had a great time writing and posting this fic, the response has been more than I could've hoped for and it made me so excited to post the next part. Though this is over, I've been so grateful for the ride (and, idk, there might be something sort of similar to this/a prologue to this about Dex and Sean the LAX bro so... idk keep your eye out for that)  
> This chapter doesn't really have any warnings aside from heavy angst and eventual happiness. So enjoy!

          Originally, when Dex got the email that told him he was going to live in a single-dorm, he was a bit wary. Dex grew up in a house with too-thin walls and creaky floorboards, and no one in the house could move without everyone else knowing about it. Dex was used to constantly having others in his space, noise at the least, to pull him out of his own head or even just to annoy him. He thought he would miss the constant company, living alone.

          Apparently, he shouldn’t have worried about that, as he was never actually fucking alone.

          “Do you hang out in Dex’s room a lot?” Tango asked, while Dex was trying to work on an essay that was giving him a decent amount of trouble. “Wait, I shouldn’t ask that, should I? Do I want to know what you did when you hung out in Dex’s room?” A slight pause. “What did you do?”

          Dex turned to give Whiskey a look he hoped said _please shut up your boyfriend before I kill him_. Whiskey just smirked back, his arm around Tango’s shoulders, smug as fuck. Fucking tadpoles.

          “We didn’t just have sex constantly,” Dex said, fairly contained, to Tango. “His roommate is a dick. He came here to do homework or complain or just hang out.”

          “Oh.” Tango seemed to take this as a suitable answer.

          Dex couldn’t help it. “Though now I’m wondering why you two can’t hang out in your room, Tango.”

          “We can,” Tango said, apparently oblivious to how close Dex was to kicking them out. “Whiskey just said you like the company.”

          Whiskey’s smirk had gotten, impossibly, smugger. “We didn’t want to leave you all alone, S-Yoda.”

          “Get out.”

          Whiskey laughed brightly, which Tango seemed to be both pleased and confused by. Dex was seriously considering leaving his _own_ dorm room to study in the library. Whiskey grinned like he knew exactly what Dex was thinking.

          These tadpoles were going to be the death of him.

 

*~*~*

 

          “Whiskey is insufferable when he’s in a relationship,” Dex said, grumpily taking a bite of his Chinese food. “Or at least when he’s in a relationship with Tango.”

          “I don’t know,” Nursey said, bending his head ridiculously to try and get the chicken between his chopsticks into his mouth. “I think they’re pretty cute.”

          “Yeah, when they’re silent, maybe.” Dex reached for the lo mein, exchanging his white rice. “Whiskey revels in Tango’s social unawareness and actually encourages it to the detriment of those around him.”

          “Aw, come on, they’re a new couple. Cut them some slack.” Nursey smiled, reclining back against the frame of Dex’s bed. He, too, seemed amused by Dex’s annoyance. Dex needed new friends.

          “They’ve been together for like a month now,” Dex grumbled around some chicken. “Can’t they be through the honeymoon period at this point?”

          Nursey poked Dex in the leg with his foot. “Stop being a Love Scrooge.”

          Dex wrinkled his nose. “That’s not a thing.”

          “It totally is.”

          “No it’s not.”

          “Uh-huh. I’m the love expert, I get to decide.”

          “What makes you the—oh no, not this again.”

          “I was born on the day of love, Dex!” Nursey grinned around the familiar argument. “The Gods decreed me the speaker for all romance.”

          “Good Lord.” Dex shook his head, taking another bite. He frowned, swallowed, and asked, “Multiple Gods? What religion do you practice?”

          Nursey sniffed, offended. “I’m a Hellenic polytheist, for your information.”

          “Which is?”

          “I believe in the Greek Gods.”

          Dex snorted. “Does that make Aphrodite your mother or something?”

          “She’s more like a Godmother than anything else.” Nursey kept a straight face until he looked at Dex’s flat expression and then began to cackle, getting rice on Dex’s rug as his entire body laughed with him.

          “That was _horrible_ , and you’re getting food on my floor.”

          Nursey looked down. “Oops.” He grabbed a napkin and started to pick up individual grains of rice to put on it.

          Dex shook his head. “What were we even talking about?”

          “Your issue with love,” Nursey said, nodding faux-seriously, still looking at the floor.

          Dex rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a problem with love. I have a problem with a lovey-dovey new couple hanging out in my dorm while I’m trying to write a paper.”

          Nursey shook his head, crumpling up the napkin, now filled with rice grains. “No, no, you know, I think you really do have a love problem.” He reached over to drop the napkin in Dex’s garbage bin. Clapping his hands to get rid of the residual stickiness, he said, “Tell me this. Have you dated anyone since you’ve been at Samwell?”

          “Define dated,” Dex said around a mouthful of noodles and onions. Nursey wrinkled his nose at Dex but otherwise ignored it.

          “Taken someone who you had romantic feelings for outside for a date-type event.” Nursey took another bite of his own food and raised his eyebrows, challenging.

          Nursey hadn’t said that the feelings had to be requited, or that the person had to know they were on a real date, but he assumed those were meant as tacit rules. Dex scowled. “No, then.”

          Nursey pointed his chopsticks at Dex. Swallowing, he said, “There’s my point.”

          “Okay, but most of the reason I hadn’t been dating was because I couldn’t even say the word “bisexual” and my last relationship fell apart because of it.” Dex kind of guiltily hoped that Nursey would end the conversation out of respect for Dex’s difficult coming out journey.

          He shouldn’t have been so naïve. “You’ve been out for months,” Nursey said, seeing right through Dex’s bullshit.

          Dex ducked his head. He shoved some lo mein in his mouth, avoiding looking at Nursey. When he swallowed, he chanced a glance up to see Nursey still looking at him expectantly. Dex glared. He was probably the unluckiest person in the world. His crush was sitting here interrogating him about why he hadn’t been dating. Want the reason, Nursey? You. “Leave me alone,” Dex said. “I haven’t seen you dating anyone either.”

          “Well, that’s just—unfair.” Nursey mimicked Dex, ducking his head and seeming very interested in his food.

          “I’d say it’s perfectly fair. Tit for tat and all that.” Nursey snorted, which was Dex’s goal in the first place. Dex smothered his smile in his noodles.

          “I—” Nursey frowned down at the floor for a minute. Dex waited, watching, growing more concerned with each passing second. Nursey finally sighed and looked up, a touch of a sad smile on his lips. “There’s this guy that I—well, I’ve been hung up on him for a while now. So the dating thing is kind of a non-starter.”

          Dex swallowed past the knot in his throat. Nursey liked— “Have you told him? How you’re feeling?” Maybe Dex had been wrong about God not minding his being bi. Maybe this was Dex’s punishment, loving Nursey when Nursey loved someone else, being the supportive friend as it crushed him inside.

          Nursey laughed, mirthless, and shook his head, stabbing his food roughly. “No, I don’t have to. It wouldn’t work out, he—he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Or he wouldn’t, if he knew.”

          “What a dick,” Dex said. He didn’t have to fake the anger, at least. This guy had someone as amazing as Nursey looking at him and he didn’t think it was a _good idea_? Fuck him.

          Nursey laughed, short and surprised and seemingly sincere. He looked up at Dex and smiled. “He’s not all bad.” Something in his eyes twinkled, not unlike the look he wore whenever he chirped Dex. Dex didn’t know what to make of it.

          “Still,” Dex said, swallowing down whatever emotion was coating his tongue. “If you need me to beat him up, just call.”

          Nursey smiled. It wavered slightly in the corners, but it was there. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

*~*~*

 

          It was a fairly empty day for Dex; no practice, no class, no overwhelming assignments due. Mostly he was just dicking around on YouTube and debating whether or not he should go to the Haus in search of entertainment, and he’d just finished watching the second video in a recently started series called Buzzfeed Unsolved when his phone buzzed angrily on his bedside table.

_Lardo: need help w art thing. come 2 haus_

          Dex had helped out with sculptures in the past, gluing and constructing and transporting, so he didn’t think much of it before grabbing his essentials (keys, wallet, coat) and setting out for the Haus. He knew Bitty was in Providence and Chowder had a lunch date with Farmer, and no one was in the living room, so it was emptier than usual. Dex didn’t know where Ransom and Holster were (he assumed that, if they were here, Dex would probably hear them) but it made the Haus almost eerily quiet as Dex walked up to Lardo’s room.

          It was either the lack of noise or possibly an untapped prescience Dex had been unaware of, but Dex had a strange foreboding sense as he knocked softly on Lardo’s door and entered her room. Lardo looked up from a sketchpad, her eyes intent, as Dex stepped inside.

          “Oh good, you’re here,” Lardo said, pretty normally. Then she said, “Take your clothes off.”

          Dex choked a little. “What.”

          Lardo rolled her eyes. “I missed a figure-drawing session because of a roadie and I need a sketch for the next part of the project.”

          “And—and what? You couldn’t ask someone else?”

          Lardo seemed unconcerned with Dex’s panic. Calmly, she said, “Shitty is in Boston, Jack and Bitty are in Providence, Ransom and Holster are at mini-golf, Chowder’s on a date, and, anyway, I wanted to draw you.” She peered at him in a disconcerting way, as if she could see under his clothes and was studying him. Dex shivered. “You’re interesting, and you’ve got freckles. I have an idea involving freckles.”

          “I…” Dex trailed off. He didn’t have anything else to do, and he trusted Lardo not to exploit him or anything, but…

          “If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to. I don’t want to force you into anything.” Lardo looked at him, honest and plain. She wasn’t pushing, simply asking, and something about that made Dex agree. Lardo wanted to draw him. She thought he was worth looking at, at least artistically. Dex felt himself stand up straighter at the thought.

          Lardo had him undress and then instructed him on how to pose. Though, typically, models would chose the pose themselves, as Lardo explained, Dex looked so out of his element that she thought it’d be best for everyone involved if she just told him what to do. She had him face towards the window of her room, his back and right side towards Lardo and the door. She had him look slightly over his shoulder, which made him arch his back, and then she smiled, satisfied, and sat down to draw.

          They didn’t talk. Lardo needed to focus and, anyway, feeling like a display rather than a person was keeping Dex sane enough to stay still. Instead, Dex fell into his thoughts.

          He tried to remember when he started thinking about his looks like they were just—there. He knew, objectively, that his body was pretty nice, as far as societal standards went. He played hockey, he had a nice ass, he had abs, broad shoulders, all that shit. But he didn’t consider himself attractive. The ears were part of it, but his dad had the same ears and Dex had always known his father was a handsome man, and not just because his mom said so. All the church ladies said the same, tittering and making Dex blush with their whispers.

          Dex looked like both of his parents, but he had a softness from his ma that neither his dad nor his brother possessed. They were masculine, with hard, angular lines and deep colored eyes and a set to their chins like they were daring the world to cross them. Dex didn’t have that. He’d tried, for years, to emulate it, but he just couldn’t. He had his ma’s big, soft eyes, a roundness to his cheeks that mellowed his jaw, a small, upturned nose and pursed, cupid’s-bow lips. He wasn’t masculine, at least not as masculine-looking as his dad or his brother, and somewhere along the line Dex had decided that wasn’t attractive.

          On her wall, next to her bunk-bed, Lardo had a full-length mirror, and it was one of the few things in Dex’s field of vision as he posed. He looked at himself, initially cringing and embarrassed, but eventually he tried to see what Lardo might have been seeing. The muscles, of course, but more than that. Freckles Dex had always hated, curling around his arms and shoulders, tucked in the alcoves beneath his ankles, sprinkled along his neck in lighter shades. The slope of his jaw, soft and mellow in the low light, was enticing, maybe, leading down to slightly-parted lips, inviting. His eyes, low-lidded and reflecting the little light in the room, sparkled.

          The longer he looked the more Dex felt—confident? He felt like something to be looked at, something to be admired. He’d never—Luke was only there to take what he could and Hailey had loved him but she hadn’t been extremely forthcoming with opinions of his appearance, and Whiskey had complimented him as far as his ability in the bedroom, but—but staring at himself, Dex could see how someone might, possibly, somehow find him—

          Beautiful.

          Dex didn’t know how long it’d been since they’d started. His neck ached a little from holding it the way he was, but he felt confident he could stay still for a long while yet. Lardo was intent on her sketch, darting her eyes up frequently and for short snippets of time. Dex couldn’t see a clock in his field of vision, so he didn’t worry about the time. Soon, he just relaxed into the pose and thought of nothing.

          Then; “Hey, Lards, I’ve got that essay you as— _ass_ , holy shit.”

          Dex spun around, dropping his pose, to see Nursey standing in the doorway, gaping, eyes fixated on the spot where Dex’s ass just was. Dex grabbed whatever was next to him—one of Lardo’s sweatshirts—and covered himself. Nursey, for some reason, stood there gaping at him. “Nursey, the fuck? Get out!”

          “Sorry, sorry, I—I’m going now!” Nursey pulled the door shut behind him. Dex, likely flushing from head to toe, looked to Lardo to see her staring back at him, her lips twitching in the corner.

          “You didn’t lock the door?” Dex asked, a bit high-pitched and panicky.

          Lardo shrugged. ( _Shrugged_.) “No one was home.”

          “Oh my God.” Dex sat down hard in Lardo’s desk chair. “He—he _stood_ there, he…”

          The semi-smirk forming on Lardo’s face twitched away. “Cut him some slack,” she said. Her eyes were sincere, not teasing. “Not all of us have Shittys.”

          Dex frowned at her, a bit annoyed at the seemingly unrelated comment. “What does that even mean?”

          “Shitty walks around naked constantly. Eventually, you get desensitized to it.” She sat back further in her beanbag chair, relaxing out of her artist’s hunch. “Nursey doesn’t have the same with you.”

          “Yeah, but you and Shitty are—” Dex looked at her sharply.

          Lardo revealed nothing. “I’ve got enough for the assignment,” she said, wiggling her sketchbook slightly. “Thanks.”

          Dex, a bit dazed, said, “No—no problem.”

          “You wanna see it?” She held up the book.

          Dex shook his head. No, he’d already seen too much for one day.

 

*~*~*

 

          “We’re not gonna make the playoffs.”

          He and Nursey were walking home from one of the last games of the season. Up ahead, Whiskey and Tango were holding hands, leaning into one another. Tango had his face tilted up towards the sky, snow likely hitting him in the face. Even from thirty feet away, Dex could tell that Whiskey was watching Tango catch flakes on his tongue with a beaming smile on his face.

          “No,” Dex said, smiling. “But the playoffs aren’t everything.” A little less than a year ago, Dex had punched a wall after they’d lost that last game. He’d been angry for himself, for the team, for Jack who deserved it so much, but this year, well. He had the team whether they were playing or not, and suddenly, at least for now, that was infinitely more important than winning. Dex looked over to Nursey. “We’ll get ‘em next year.”

          Nursey smiled back and said nothing. They kept walking towards their building, hands shoved in pockets to avoid the cold. Their arms kept brushing and Dex didn’t make himself pull away. He knew what Nursey had said about being into some guy, but after that day in Lardo’s room, Dex couldn’t help but hope that maybe Nursey would be willing to try something with Dex. They were friends, right? And Nursey found him attractive, if Lardo was to be believed (though Dex still wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been trying to say in that conversation). Maybe, possibly, somehow—

          “This year feels like a success anyway,” Dex said, suddenly antsy. “I mean, I came out this year. Bitty and Jack came out to all of us. Jack is doing amazing in the NHL. Ransom figured out he didn’t want to go to med school, Holster got that kickass job, you and I got—” Dex looked over at Nursey. There were snowflakes on his eyelashes. Dex swallowed. “We got closer.”

          “I know what you mean,” Nursey said, soft.

          They reached their building. Dex swiped his card and held the door open for Nursey. They rode the elevator up to their floor silently, their shoulders touching. Dex tried to find a reason for why he shouldn’t try, why he couldn’t just _try_ , and was surprised to find he had none left. He could be good for Nursey. He knew he could, if he tried.

          They walked down the hall and stopped in front of Nursey’s door. Nursey turned to Dex, something heavy in his eyes. Dex took a deep breath, listing forwards almost subconsciously, and he could see himself doing it, leaning in, pressing his lips to Nursey’s, pulling back and telling him all the reasons Dex loved him, and he was about to do it when—

          “Dex.” Dex blinked. He lifted his gaze from Nursey’s lips. Nursey flickered between Dex’s eyes. They were too close to just look one another in the face. “Do you—do you remember that time when the semester started, and—and Jack and Shitty were visiting?”

          Dex felt his forehead wrinkle. He thought back. The first day of this semester. Holster had made mimosas and Lardo had added him to the Bi Bi Bi Group Chat and they’d gotten enough money for the dryer. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember.”

          “Do you remember when Jack said he didn’t think he would’ve done anything with Bitty last year because he didn’t want to mess with team dynamics?” Nursey’s eyes were urgent and Dex was so confused.

          “I—yeah. Nursey, what—”

          “Do you still agree with him?” Nursey was staring at him, unwavering, and Dex blinked back, lost. He did agree with Jack. He didn’t think that a captain should be dating someone under them. It brought about complications, an imbalance of power, the potential for favoritism, and while a fight between teammates was bad enough, a captain fighting with their significant other who was also under them on the team would only lead to issues, Dex was sure.

          “Yes,” Dex said, still unsure why Nursey was bringing this up now. Was he trying to change the subject? Did he see what Dex was thinking and was trying to stop it with talking? “I mean, Luke and I—that wasn’t—I just don’t think it’s a good situation to get in. It just complicates things.”

          Nursey’s expression closed off, for half a moment, before he plastered on a fake little smile. “Yeah,” he said, whisper-quiet, almost hoarse. “Yeah, you’re right.”

          “Nursey, what did I—”

          “I’m—tired. Um. Goodnight, Dex.” Dex watched as Nursey let himself into his dorm room, the door closing between them with a soft _thwift_. Dex stood there for a few long moments, staring at the shut door. He’d thought—he was so close.

          What had he done?

 

*~*~*

 

          “I hate running,” Whiskey said, between pants, as he jogged with Dex around campus. It was early, and cold enough that each panted breath came out in a fog. Dex liked a good morning jog, a force-of-habit kind of thing he couldn’t find enough reasons to break. Whiskey, who had such little time between classes and practices and Tango, had wanted to hang out just the two of them, and as Dex had even less spare time, he invited Whiskey running.

          Obviously, Whiskey wasn’t enjoying it.

          Dex huffed. “So does Nursey.” His mind went to few other places ever since the night he almost kissed him, and likely before that, too. It was just since that night, though, that Dex voiced the ridiculous thoughts his mind conjured up.

          “You can’t see it,” Whiskey said, sucking in air, “but I’m making a very pointed expression right now.” They turned to go down another street, likely the last street on the route. Usually Dex would go another twenty minutes, at least another lap around campus, but he thought he’d be kind and end it now, for Whiskey.

          “Yeah?” Dex breathed rhythmically to keep himself going at a good pace. “What’s it saying?”

          “It’s saying that your constant mentions of Nursey are incredibly suspect.” Dex glanced over at Whiskey, who was making an expression that communicated that sentiment fairly well. It pissed Dex off, so he sprinted the rest of the way down the street, stopping outside Annie’s and waiting, smug. Whiskey caught up a minute later, panting and glaring deeply. It was an improvement over the last expression, in Dex’s opinion. “Dick,” Whiskey said, sucking in air.

          “Jerk.” Dex pulled the door open for Whiskey. “Come on, I’ll treat.” Annie’s was busy this early in the morning so they got on line and waited. Dex pulled out the money he kept tucked in his shoe while running, just in case, and counted it to make sure he had enough for two drinks.

          “I wasn’t trying to be an ass,” Whiskey said. Dex looked up. His breathing had returned to a relatively normal pace, courtesy of his Div I athlete’s body. “I’m just saying. You’ve been mentioning him more often.” He looked at Dex, worry and sincerity both annoyingly present. Dex pretended as if he was very focused on the menu boards, even though he really only shuffled between two drinks whenever he came in here. Pointed, Whiskey said, “Dex.”

          Dex exhaled. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice sounded weak to his own ears and it made him fidgety. “I thought that something had changed, kind of. I thought maybe.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.”

          Whiskey frowned at him. “What happened?”

          They stepped forward in line.

          “There was this—moment. I was so close to doing something about it and then he started talking about some obscure conversation we had months ago.” Dex shook his head. “He was obviously uncomfortable with it. Now it’s going to be awkward and we’re going to stop talking and we’ll never be able to live together next year—”

          “Hey, Dex, slow down, chi—” Whiskey cut himself off at Dex’s death glare. He changed tactics. “Have you seen him since it happened?”

          “No,” Dex admitted. It had only been two days, and they both had class yesterday. There was no indication as of yet that Nursey was avoiding him, or was upset about what had happened. Still, Dex’s mind always went to the worst-case scenario.

          “Okay, so let’s not panic yet.” They got to the front of the line and Whiskey stepped up to order. Dex ordered for himself and then paid. While waiting for their drinks, Whiskey said, “You should talk to Nursey.” When Dex looked at him like he was crazy, he added, “Not about your feelings, just casually. You guys do those weekly hang-out things, right? See if you’re still on for that. Something simple.”

          Dex refrained from correcting Whiskey about the name of their hang-outs. “They’re not every week,” he said, lamely, instead. Whiskey raised his eyebrows and Dex scowled in response. Their drinks arrived and they took them to go as they walked back to their buildings.

          “Okay, now for my problem,” Whiskey said, a minute or two later. “How do I convince Isaac that I’m not just working my way through the team?”

          Dex looked heavenwards for help. Fucking tadpoles.

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex jiggled his key in the lock for his dorm, pushing the door open with his hip as he carried in his laundry basket. With a new dryer at the Haus, carrying the basket back to his dorm was now the most difficult part of the whole affair, a fact for which Dex was eternally grateful.

          Dex dropped the laundry basket, though, when he opened his door to find Nursey sitting on his bed inside. “Shit, sorry.” Nursey stood up, fidgeting slightly. Dex blinked at him for a few moments, still reeling, before picking up his laundry.

          “It’s fine,” he said, putting the basket down on the end of his bed. “When I gave you the key, I told you to use it whenever. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

          “I texted you,” Nursey said, still shifting his weight nervously.

          “I was in the Haus basement,” Dex said. No one got service down there. It was a major contributing factor in the story Shitty had from his and Jack’s frog year, getting locked down there, drinking, and writing the majority of the by-laws while they waited for someone to find them.

          “Oh.” They stood, looking at each other, for an infinite amount of time. Finally, Nursey said, “I was hoping to have one of our—dates.”

          “Right now?”

          Nursey shrugged. “If you’re free.”

          “Um, sure.” Dex looked at his laptop. “Wanna watch a movie?”

          They set up on Dex’s bed, laptop on the mattress in front of them. They queued up some rom-com type thing on Netflix and settled in to watch. Dex was painfully aware of the space between them, not completely unusual, but it felt so carefully cultivated that it was anything but comfortable. Still, Nursey was here. He had reached out to Dex first. That must have meant that he wasn’t going to let Dex’s near-slip the other night affect their relationship, right?

          The movie was long, entertaining enough, and by the end of it, they’d relaxed decently out of their uncomfortable positions. Their knees brushed, though their arms didn’t, and Dex wasn’t holding himself nearly as stiff. They’d been sitting for a long time, though, so Dex stood up to stretch out his muscles. Nursey did the same.

          This left them standing in front of one another, now without a distraction. Dex didn’t know what to say, felt an overwhelming chasm between them that had never been there before. Even when they’d been fighting, they’d at least been connecting.

          “Nursey—”

          “Dex—”

          They stopped.

          “You go,” Nursey said.

          Dex sighed. “I just wanted to ask. Are we good?”

          Nursey looked back at home for a few unmanageable seconds. “Yeah,” he said, finally, “yeah, of course.”

          Dex couldn’t hold in his sigh. “Good.” He smiled, small, relieved. “What were you going to say?”

          Nursey smiled, raising his shoulder halfway into a shrug. “The same thing.”

 

*~*~*

 

          It had started out innocently enough. Today, they had their last game of the season. They won, but it wouldn’t change anything in terms of playoffs. There was a melancholy that rested over some things, especially for the seniors, but for Lardo and Holster and Ransom, the most prominent emotion appeared to be relief. Finally, they could throw a kegster for Lardo and Ransom’s birthdays, and though that was coming up in a few days, everyone had wanted to celebrate the end of the season in one way or another.

          So Jack and Shitty drove in to celebrate, Bitty picked up a bunch of those hard lemonades he’d gotten everyone addicted to (with Holster along as the over-21 ID holder), and they all sat around getting tipsy and reminiscing about the year. Oh, and periodically toasting the Falcs to a “fucking kickass playoff season”. Needless to say, they were going through the lemonades fast.

          Then someone—probably Holster—got the idea to put an empty bottle down on the floor between them all and spin it. “Truth or dare!” Shitty cried, delighted, and thus the bad idea was begun.

          They were at least twenty minutes in at this point. People had licked feet, taken pies to the face, told their worst roadie-roommate secrets, admitted to stealing pieces of pie, and much, much more. Dex was just tipsy enough to be amused rather than annoyed—he’d been chosen by the bottle twice, picking truth both times. “Yes,” he’d admitted begrudgingly, “the carpet matches the drapes.” The next time it had been Bitty, who, while an amazing darer, came up with fairly bland questions. He didn’t like forcing people to say things they didn’t want to, Dex assumed. So Dex told everyone his least favorite flavor of Bitty’s pies and then endured a two-minute drunken rant about why rhubarb was an important staple in pie making history.

          The game went on. Shitty stripped and Holster sang songs from Wicked—neither of these were dares—and Ransom cried a little thinking about the fact that he’d never have to take a fucking chemistry class again if he didn’t want to after being asked what his favorite part about graduating was. Lardo admitted to both drawing nude portraits (Dex flushed, Shitty grinned) and posing for them. Bitty picked his favorite body part of Jack’s—“Oh, I love his eyes, don’t you just love his eyes?” he said, smitten, and everyone aw’ed. Then everyone had cackled when he’d said, “Also his ass. Dear Lord, I love his ass.”—and Jack was dared to put on a pair of butt pads Holster had “just lying around” and Dex was pretty sure that someone had gotten pictures.

          Tango was finally picked by the bottle (there was a tilt to the floor that worked in his favor, or against, depending on what outcome he wanted) and performed his dare—tasting baking powder, as he’d asked after its taste the other day and everyone wanted to help Tango answer his questions—before spinning the bottle. It landed on Holster. He picked truth—his foot was still sticky from the licking dare.

          For the first time ever, Tango didn’t know what to ask.

          “Just make it funny,” Shitty said. “Ask about something embarrassing, or something about sex. Everyone likes those.”

          “Oh.” Tango thought for a moment. “Who’s the most embarrassing person you’ve had sex with?” Tango was almost too good at taking direction.

          “Aw, no, that’s mean,” Bitty said, frowning from where he sat, perched in Jack’s lap. “Don’t answer that.”

          “No.” Holster grimaced. “I’ve got one, but it’s embarrassing because, well.” He took a long swig of his lemonade. “Freshman year, I slept with Doug McAdams after a frat party.”

          “Doug McAdams? But he was—” Ransom was cut off by Shitty’s horrified gasp.

          “Doug McAdams as in the _LAX bro_ Doug McAdams?” he shrieked. The room erupted in chaos. Lardo was cackling, Bitty was trying to calm people, Tango seemed to be asking Whiskey a very serious question, Nursey was smirking at Dex who kicked him in the side in retaliation, Shitty was just screaming “Traitor!” at the top of his lungs.

          When everyone had settled down, Holster had a fine of _infinity dollars_ against him and everyone decided to never speak of it again. He reached into the middle and spun, and the bottle slid to a stop, its lip pointing right at Whiskey. Holster grinned devilishly. It was revenge time.

          There was really no _good_ option, so Whiskey went for the least risk of injury option and picked truth. Holster didn’t skip a beat. “Describe the first time you had sex with a dude, _including_ a name.”

          Tango frowned. He looked to Whiskey. “Is that supposed to annoy me? I already know about your first time.”

          Whiskey smirked at Holster. “See? Communication.”

          Holster, visibly irked, said, “Then _communicate_ , oh dickish one.”

          Whiskey looked around the circle, ostensibly as if he was preparing to tell his story. But he paused on Dex, eyebrow half-raised in question. He didn’t have to tell the truth—though doing so after Holster’s admission would be somewhat of a betrayal—but Dex had spent so long convincing him that he could tell the team anything. And, anyway, Dex was tipsy and Nursey wasn’t ever going to love him and it might be fun to see the looks on everyone’s faces. Dex shrugged just slightly. Whiskey smiled.

          “My first time with a dude was—wait, how are we defining sex?” Whiskey looked to Holster.

          Holster started to say, “Obviously—” and Lardo cut him off.

          “If you say penetration I’ll put laxatives in your protein shakes.” Lardo stared unwaveringly at him over her cup of what was very likely just vodka and orange juice. She wasn’t as into the lemonades as the rest of them.

          Holster stared back for a moment before turning to Whiskey and saying, “Whatever you deem to be your first time.”

          Whiskey nodded. “Alright. First time with a dude was in his dorm. It wasn’t awkward ‘cause I’d made him promise it wouldn’t be, and we’d already done some stuff before then. He was big.” Holster snickered and Whiskey rolled his eyes. “I mean shoulder-wise and muscles or whatever.” He smirked. “But I guess the other is true too.” Nursey wolf-whistled and Shitty cackled. Dex stifled his blush with his drink. “We weren’t in love or anything. It was more of an arrangement we’d made than anything else, but he made it good. Real good. Actually, I think it was the first time I’d used the word ‘swawesome.”

          People chuckled at that—Dex caught Chowder beaming—but Holster interrupted the laughter to ask, “And who was this mythical, magical, v-card taker?” This all seemed to be going too smooth for his taste.

          Whiskey’s signature _fucking tadpole_ smirked appeared. His eyes met Dex’s and Dex knew he was enjoying this way too much. With as much smugness as he could cram into one word, Whiskey said, “Dex.”

           For the second time in ten minutes, the room erupted into chaos. Dex laughed along with Whiskey at Shitty, Holster, and Ransom’s bewildered expressions. Tango seemed pleased to have been let in on the joke beforehand and was smiling accordingly. Lardo was smirking but appeared unsurprised even though Dex was fairly sure she hadn’t known. Chowder was wide-eyed and confused. Bitty gave Dex a once-over, muttering, “Whaddya know,” and Jack pulled him closer by the waist.

          Dex didn’t look at Nursey, next to him, because Nursey’s reaction wouldn’t be the jealousy Dex wanted it to be and he’d told himself he would stop doing this.

          Of course, they couldn’t just move on after that, as there were questions. “No, we weren’t dating. No, we’re not still sleeping together now that Whiskey and Tango are together. _No_ , I’m not going to take out my dick, what the hell, Shitty?”

          By the time everything had been clarified, it had gotten pretty late, and anyone who wasn’t going to be sleeping in the Haus that night had to clear out. Dex stayed behind a minute to help Bitty clear away some bottles, expecting to find the rest of the guys walking back to be waiting outside for him. Whiskey and Tango were, but Nursey had disappeared.

          “He said he was tired,” Tango said. “He looked it.”

          Dex didn’t think much of it.

 

*~*~*

 

          Walking out of class, Dex slipped his arm through the open strap of his backpack before extracting his phone from his jeans pocket. It’d been getting warmer but his fingers were still cold as he typed out a message to Nursey.

 _You_ : _Are you at Jerry’s yet? Class ran late sorry_

          He shoved his phone back in his pocket so he could tuck his cold fingers inside his jacket, but his phone buzzed only a minute or so later and he had to subject them to the end-of-winter air once again.

_Nursey: not feeling good. don’t think i can make it_

          Dex frowned. He’d seen Nursey a few days before, at the celebration night, and he’d seemed fine. But then he’d walked home early and Tango said he looked tired. It was possible Nursey was coming down with something at that time and it had manifested itself now.

          Dex knew that he shouldn’t, but, well, they were still friends, and friends took care of each other, right? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of normalcy to bring Nursey something to eat, try and make him feel better. It wasn’t pining, it was being a good friend.

          Right?

          Where he was on campus was close enough to the Haus that Dex hadn’t figured out an answer before he already arrived. Bitty wasn’t home—probably in class—but there was blueberry pie in the fridge (Nursey’s favorite) and the ingredients for a decent soup just hanging around, so Dex whipped something up. He poured the finished soup into a thermos and put the heated-up pie into a container and made his way back to their building.

          He told himself the whole way there that this wasn’t weird, he was being _nice_ , Nursey wouldn’t read anything into it. He wouldn’t, right? Fuck, so soon after that weird moment after the game, of course it would make it weird. They just got back to normal, too. Fuck.

          He wasn’t just going to shame-eat all the food in his room, though, and Nursey _was_ sick, so despite the expected consequences, Dex knocked on Nursey’s door. It opened and Nursey appeared, looking…

          Perfectly fine.

          Nursey frowned. “What are you doing here?”

          Dex hesitated a moment, confused. “You said you weren’t feeling well. I brought soup. And pie.” He held up his containers as some kind of proof. Nursey stared back, his expression—blank?

          “I’m not really hungry,” he said. He was so—contained, somehow. Flat and emotionless in a way he never could achieve when he was trying to be chill. The only time Dex had seen him like this was after their biggest fight their frog year, when Dex had genuinely pissed Nursey off to the point they couldn’t talk for weeks. But what was Nursey angry about now?

          “Well, take it anyway. Maybe you’ll be hungry later.” Dex held out the containers so Nursey had no choice but to take them. He didn’t seem happy about it, though. What was going on?

          “Thanks.” Nursey glanced away. “I’m not feeling great, so I’m gonna.”

          Dex stumbled. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Feel better.” He watched Nursey nod once before shutting the door between them quickly.

          What had just happened?

 

*~*~*

 

          The warming Spring air, paired with the excess of rain, made the whole Haus smell like wet wood, a bit mossy and dusty but mostly just reminiscent of home. Dex liked hanging out there when it got rainy because it felt like Maine in a way that didn’t hurt. Today, though, even the smell didn’t help settle him.

          “Bitty,” Dex asked, pushing pie dough into the corners of a tin.

          “Yes, hun?” Bitty was making pies for tomorrow’s Keagster, which were likely to be destroyed within the first hour of the party no matter how many Bitty made. Dex still helped, though, because it was a lot of work for one person, pie magic or no.

          “Have you noticed Nursey being weird lately? Just, like, the past few days.” Dex moved to grab the bowl of cherry filling. He began pouring it into the tin, using a spatula to spread it evenly.

          “Oh, well.”

          Dex was busy with the filling, so he didn’t look up to see whatever expression was on Bitty’s face. “He cancelled a hang-out we’d planned because he said he was sick, but when I brought him soup he seemed perfectly fine. I don’t know. He hasn’t really been responding to my texts. He seems—mad? I don’t know.”

          “Honey.” Dex scrapped the last of the filling out of the bowl and looked up. Bitty was making his sad eyes at Dex, frowning slightly, and Bitty almost never frowned. It was a bit alarming.

          “What?”

          Bitty shook his head, sighing. He looked back down at his pastry, saying, “Just cut him some slack.”

          Dex was lost. Why did people keep saying that to him? “What? Why—”

          “Dex.” Dex shut his mouth with a _click_. Bitty almost rarely called him Dex, at least without being followed immediately by “honey” or “sweetheart” or something of the like. Bitty’s eyes were heavy with understanding when he looked up but Dex didn’t know what it was he was sympathizing with. “I think it’s best if you just let it alone for a bit. I understand where you’re coming from, but I think he just needs time.” Bitty smiled, and the sympathy in that, Dex was almost sure, was directed at him. “It isn’t your fault, but you can’t fix this.”

          “I…” Dex was confused, but Bitty hardly ever got this way, all solemn and firm. He looked back down at his pie. He didn’t know what was going on. Bitty obviously did. It made the most sense to just take Bitty’s advice in this. Still, the thought of not talking to Nursey, texting him stupid pictures of dogs and arguing with him about the best kind of pickles, not being around him at all—it hurt. “Alright,” he eventually said, his chest aching.

          Bitty squeezed his shoulder. “It’s the best thing, hon.”

          Dex didn’t doubt that. He just didn’t understand why.

 

*~*~*

 

          Keagster was, as expected, fucking nuts. Everyone was carrying around little bottles of sriracha or Lardo’s homemade stickers or travel-sized liquor bottles, their spoils from the eggs. There was Easter candy everywhere, chocolate bunnies and peeps of various colors and spring-themed M&Ms. Everyone was hopped up (hah) on sugar and drunk on the fruity drinks Holster and Ransom had spent a decent amount of time concocting, and there was tub juice somewhere that Dex had promised himself he wouldn’t touch tonight.

          Dex stumbled into the living room, eating a piece of pie he’d found in the back of the fridge—it was lemon-lime and not Dex’s favorite, but good because it was Bitty’s—and was greeted by the largest group of people he’d ever seen shoved into the Haus. Holster was yelling something about karaoke and Legally Blonde was playing on the TV for some reason (the bunny costume? maybe) and Ransom was in a throne-type chair, head adorned with a crown that had salmon cartoon cut-outs taped to it.

          Dex moved on before he could be sucked into the mosh-pit of dancers. In the dining room, Lardo was holding court at the pong table, also in a crown. Bitty was talking to Tango and Whiskey, all of them appearing tipsy from a distance. Dex could go over there and chat with them, but he still felt weird about his conversation with Bitty the day before and Tango and Whiskey hadn’t lessened in their insufferableness since getting together (they were cute, Dex was happy for them, but hanging out with the two of them together was grating on Dex’s loveless nerves). The halls were full of people, a line of which filtered out to the backyard, where more eggs were hidden. Dex saw an abandoned one on the porch railing.

          Inside was a little fortune-cookie type note written in Holster’s handwriting. _You will get drunk tonight and do something fucking nuts_. Well, Dex thought, putting the egg back, he was halfway there.

          Another table was set up out back for pong, and someone had started a fire in the burn barrel though Dex wasn’t sure burn barrels were allowed on campus. He thought about putting a stop to it, but then his eyes fixed on Nursey, sitting on the ground, back against the one tree in the backyard. He was staring into a cup, seemingly dazed and overwhelmingly sad. Bitty’s words echoed around his mind and Dex knew that he shouldn’t go over there, but Nursey just looked so upset.

          Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking over to Nursey, who didn’t notice Dex until Dex was squatting right in front of him. “Nursey,” he said, twice, before Nursey looked at him.

          Nursey’s eyes focused and he frowned. “Dex.”

          “Yeah, that’s me.” He pointed at Nursey’s cup. “How many of those have you had?”

          Nursey just kept staring at him. “Dex.”

          Well, that was enough of an answer. It was still kind of early, but obviously Nursey wasn’t having a great time and he’d likely had too many if he wasn’t coherent enough to answer a question.

          “Come on,” Dex said, hefting Nursey up. They stumbled once standing and Dex realized that he wasn’t exactly sober either. He’d had four of those fruity drinks and he’d been taste-testing all morning while they came up with a recipe. And one of Dex’s eggs had contained a little thing of vodka, which he’d downed with a wince to keep Chowder from  volunteering to take it off his hands. “Okay,” Dex said, taking a deep breath. “We can do this.”

          With Nursey’s arm over his shoulders, his arm guiding Nursey from around his waist, they stumble-walked back to their building. Nursey was quiet for most of the trip, only breaking it to mutter things Dex couldn’t hear. He could walk well enough, so he wasn’t as gone as he could’ve been, but Dex was too selfish in his own state to make himself take his hands off of Nursey. He was just so _warm_ and Dex hadn’t seen him, really, in days. He missed Nursey and he didn’t want to stop touching him before he had to.

          They got to their building and Dex let them in. Nursey started standing on his own when they got in the elevator. Dex missed his warmth but said nothing. Once they got on their floor, Dex led them down the hall to Nursey’s dorm and turned to Nursey for the key.

          “I don’t have it,” he said, frowning, grumpy.

          “What? Why don’t you have your key?”

          “I went to the party with my roommate. He brought it.” Dex groaned. No way was he staying in the hallway to wait for Nursey’s roommate to leave the Keagster, and he wasn’t going to just leave Nursey sitting here. He sighed, seeing the one solution and detesting it, but there wasn’t much else he could do, aside from going back to the party.

          “Come on, then,” Dex grumbled. “You can sleep in my dorm.” He crossed the hall to his own room and pulled out his key.

          “Don’t get mad at me,” Nursey said, suddenly angry. “You’re the one that pulled me out of the party.”

          “You were obviously not having a good time. And you’d probably had too many tub juices. Who was even on Nursey Patrol tonight?” Dex unlocked his door and pushed it open.

          “Why do you care?” Nursey muttered, pushing past Dex into the room. Dex huffed, stepping inside and letting his door close.

          “What is your problem?” he asked, steadily getting more upset.

          Nursey spun around, mouth open and ready to yell, but he shut it, shaking his head. “Never mind.” This, of course, pissed Dex off too, but he vaguely remembered Bitty’s advice and sighed, containing himself.

          “Fine. Whatever. You take the bed.” Dex could make himself some kind of padded bed on the floor with his heavy winter comforter and a sleeping bag. He knew two people could fit in the bed together—he’d been in it with Whiskey a number of times—but he didn’t want to bring it up when Nursey was obviously pissed, and it probably wouldn’t have been kind to make himself go through that either.

          Dex went to his closet to get his sleeping bag but stopped when he heard, “I’m not sleeping there.”

          Dex turned around, squinting. “What?”

          Nursey shook his head, eyes on fire. “I’m not sleeping there.”

          “What is wrong with my bed?” Dex asked.

          Nursey’s nostrils flared. “Whiskey lost his virginity in that bed.”

          Huh? “Uh, I’ve washed the sheets since then.”

          “I don’t give a shit,” Nursey said, suddenly yelling. “You fucked him in that bed and I don’t want to sleep in it!”

          “What the fuck, Nursey? What are you—”

          “Why wasn’t it me?” Nursey yelled.

          Dex stared. “What?”

          “You didn’t care about fucking people on the team _obviously_ and you knew, you _knew_ how I— but you didn’t ask me.” Nursey’s voice must’ve been loud enough to hear dorms over. “Why didn’t you ask me?” he insisted. “Why didn’t you ask—” He choked off. He finished, in a whisper, “Me.”

          “Nursey...”

          In the next second, Nursey was stepping forwards and kissing Dex. His hands cupped Dex’s face, his lips were insistent, tongue probing. Dex was tipsy, he didn’t know—he didn’t stop, he didn’t _want_ to stop it. He kissed back.

          Dex grabbed at his hips, pulling their bodies together. Nursey moaned against his mouth and Dex could feel him getting hard against his hip. Nursey pushed his hands into Dex’s hair, pulling lightly, and Dex’s breath hitched. Dex bit lightly at Nursey’s lip, just scraping his teeth, and Nursey whined, high and loud.

          “Dex,” he said, breathless, and Dex couldn’t help himself, it was Nursey and he wanted Dex and that was more than he’d ever let himself hope for.

          He pushed Nursey back onto the bed and crawled over him. Nursey’s pupils were blown so wide his eyes were black, and Dex couldn’t read the emotion in them aside from _want_ and _lust_ and _now_. Dex didn’t think. He just leaned in.

 

*~*~*

 

          Dex woke up to the sun hitting him in the face. His head hurt. He had the gross feeling of dried sweat all over his body, sheets sticking to his back. His mouth tasted horrible. He pulled his lips apart with an audible sound. He was warm, warmer than his spring blanket usually made him, but it was fading.

          He opened his eyes. His room was the same as it always was, except there was a pile of clothes next to his bed instead of in his hamper. It was the outfit he’d worn last night, to the Keagster. The Keagster. The fruity drinks and the pie and the vodka and the fortune egg and Nursey and-and—

          Nursey.

          Oh God.

          Dex sat up in bed, pressing his hands against his eyes. He’d slept with Nursey. He’d kissed and touched and fucked—

          Oh fuck, no. No this was bad. Oh God this was _so bad_.

          Dex tried to think back, tried to remember what Nursey had said before he’d—before he’d kissed Dex, but Dex couldn’t remember a single utterance of feelings. Fucking and sex and sleeping together, yeah, but never _I like you_ , _I want to date you, I lo_ —

          “Oh God.” Dex felt like he was going to be sick, maybe half because of the mixing alcohols. He had fucked Nursey. Nursey wanted him but not—not for more than sex. Oh God, he’d probably heard Whiskey talking about them together and thought _huh a good lay, low-effort, he’d be perfect_. Dex wanted to punch something. He wanted to yell. Mostly, he wanted to cry.

          The guy he’d been in love with for a year wanted him as a fuck-buddy.

          Dex’s phone buzzed some indeterminate time later. It was Bitty.

_Bitty: Morning-after cleanup would be appreciated, to all those who are awake!_

          Dex needed to do something. He couldn’t just sit here and relive it (it had been good, oh had it been good, and even that hurt to think about) he needed to do something with his hands. He got dressed, shoving last night’s clothes into the hamper. He perfunctorily rinsed off in the bathroom in the hall and dressed quickly before making his way to the Haus. There was sure to be garbage to pick up, plates and pie tins to wash, things to clean. Dex just needed to get out of his own head and _do something_.

          He walked into the Haus kitchen, ready to volunteer his body for the unforeseeable future, and Nursey was sitting at the table, his head in his hands. Bitty sat at his side, a helpless expression on his face. They both looked up when Dex walked in.

          Nursey’s eyes were rimmed red. He looked awful. Still beautiful, though.

          “Oh Lord.” Bitty stood up. “Come on. Y’all can talk in the basement. Ain’t nobody gonna hear y’all down there.”

          Dex followed, because Bitty usually knew best and he had no idea what was going to happen and his chest ached so why not. He didn’t think it could get worse.

          Once they were down in the basement, Bitty gone, it was just the two of them, standing and staring at one another. Dex couldn’t handle the broken expression on Nursey’s face, didn’t know what to do with it, so he sat down on the ground and pressed his back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs. Nursey did something similar on the other side of the room.

          They didn’t talk for a long time. Or maybe it just felt like a long time. Dex sat and ran through everything Nursey could say, trying to come up with a response for everything, but his head hurt and his heart hurt and he just couldn’t do it, think up all those lies.

          “You’ve done this kind of thing before,” Nursey murmured out of nowhere. Dex flickered his eyes up to see Nursey watching him. “Just sex.”

          Dex swallowed and looked down at the floor. He thought he knew where Nursey was going with this and he just—he couldn’t. “Please don’t ask me for a fuck buddies arrangement. Please, _please_ don’t—don’t ask me for that.” He looked up. Nursey’s expression had shattered, disappointment and whatever else Dex didn’t understand. He kept going, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was broken open and all his pieces were falling out. “Don’t, because—because I’ll say yes.”

          Nursey blinked. “What?”

          Dex continued, desperate. “I’ll say yes and I’ll fuck you all you want, I’ll make it good, I will. I know how. I’ve been taught how. I could get you off and make you happy and ache with every touch, I’d—I would break myself apart for you if you asked. So please. Don’t ask me to.”

          Nursey shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

          Dex suddenly didn’t care what secrets he was keeping or how impossible it would be for Nursey to return his feelings. He just wanted Nursey to understand. “I have done the just sex, okay, I have, but I can’t do that with you. I want—” Dex shut his eyes so tightly it hurt. “I want too much more.”

          Nursey stared. “You mean…”

          Dex felt himself break. “I love you, Nursey.” He voice caught. He might’ve been crying. “I can’t do this, okay? I can’t do the just sex, I can’t, I can’t—”

          “Dex, stop. Shut up.” Dex looked up. Nursey was wide-eyed, the devastation gone from his expression. “I thought—you said you didn’t date within the team.”

          Dex shook his head. “What does that—”

          “Would you date within the team?” Nursey asked, his voice pointed, urgent.

          “I—I—yeah. I mean, not a captain or whatever, but yeah.”

          “Oh,” Nursey said. He struggled up onto his knees and walked the short distance over to Dex. Dex watched him, feeling caged, confused. Nursey stopped in front of him, putting his hand on Dex’s knee. He bent down until their noses were brushing.

          “Nursey, what—”

          “I love you too,” Nursey said, whispered against Dex’s lips. “I love you too. I love you—”

          Dex didn’t let him finish. His heart swelled and he leaned up and they kissed.

          It was something Dex had never known he’d been missing, the feeling in his chest. Now that it was there, he was never going to let it go. He curled his fingers in Nursey’s shirt and pulled him closer.

          “I love you,” Dex said against Nursey’s lips. He’d kept it in so long. He shouldn’t have been so scared to let it out but it was okay, he’d wasted time, but they had so much in front of them it made Dex breathless. He said it again because there was no shortage of air to say it with.

          Nursey laughed, smile uncontained. Beautiful.

 

*~Epilogue~*

 

          People around them milled, talking quietly, respectfully, about the art. A lot of it went over Dex’s head. He could appreciate a nice sketch, a pretty landscape, but performance pieces and abstract sculptures were a bit much for his technical brain to handle.

          Still, Nursey seemed to like it well enough, pulling Dex around from piece to piece, sometimes talking to the student artists standing in front of them. With one hand, Nursey animatedly gestured as he spoke to people. The other was busy, curled around Dex’s.

          “We should try and find Lardo’s stuff,” Dex said, after a conversation he half-understood (fairly good percentage, considering) with a person Dex considered to be the personification of the word “hipster”.

          “You’re probably right,” Nursey said, sighing a little at the thought of leaving all these pieces behind.

          Dex rolled his eyes. “We can do another lap later if you want.”

          Nursey grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Dex’s (steadily blushing) cheek before pulling him towards the back of the gallery where Lardo’s pieces were set up. There were a few sculptures Dex recognized from aiding in the construction aspect, which he pointed out to Nursey at a lack of anything else to say.

          “Yes, you’re a very strong builder man, very helpful.” Dex stuck his tongue out at Nursey for that, which only made Nursey laugh (which was obviously Dex’s goal in the first place).

          After the sculptures came actual paintings, which Dex could appreciate a bit more. He’d been studying one that was evoking the sense of the ice fairly well in Dex when he heard Nursey inhale sharply next to him.

          “What’s wr—”

          Immediately to their right was a tall canvas. The background was a deep blue, black in some places and almost purple in others. White dots were scattered across it in constellations, truly evocative of space, consuming and blinding all at once. However, what captivated the piece was the warmly colored nude in the center of the galaxy, such a contrast to the cold space. The viewer saw the man’s back and just a hint of his right hip, lines long and smooth, soft where the background was hard and unforgiving. The man’s hair, an inviting shade of orange, fanned out, just a bit too long. All along the man’s skin were bright spots of stars, curled around his arms and tucked into the alcoves beneath his ankles and sprinkled along his neck.

          The man’s face wasn’t completely visible, just the line of a nose, a jaw kinder in comparison to the harsh space, lips pulled back into a soothing, comfortable smile. His eyes, a melted amber and hardly opened, shone brighter than anything else on the canvas.

          “Wow,” Nursey said on a breath. He squeezed Dex’s hand once, tight. Dex tried to remember how to breathe.

          “I told you I had an idea about freckles,” Lardo said, suddenly at Dex’s elbow, appearing out of nowhere. She winked. “Enjoy the exhibit.” She was just as suddenly gone.

          Afterwards, when they’d done another lap of the whole place and it was starting to end, Dex and Nursey walked home together. Nursey basically lived in Dex’s dorm at this point. Any further qualms about the bed were squashed when Dex and Nursey, um, christened it anew.

          “I should ask Lardo if I could buy that painting off of her after the exhibit’s over,” Nursey mused, halfway through their walk.

          Dex hummed back. The idea was a bit embarrassing, but the painting was beautiful. Sometimes, depending on the day, Dex could believe he was, too. “That was the day I realized you might like me back. Your reaction when you walked in.”

          “Brah, I walked in on you posing like a fucking Greek God. Of _course_ I freaked.”

          Dex huffed a laugh. “Whatever.” Nursey pulled him closer by their conjoined hands. Their shoulders bumped. “So that was the day you realized, then?”

          Nursey laughed, bright and unburdened. “Oh, dude. Come on.” He turned to grin at Dex. “I knew before that.” He made his eyes go glassy and opined, “Our love has been fated by the stars, millennia before we even—”

          “Shut up,” Dex laughed, pulling on Nursey’s arm.

          Nursey laughed too, grinning. “I love you,” he said, half-unexpected and all-together breathtaking.

          Dex smiled. He’d never get tired of being surprised by those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Imagine le following~  
> *Whiskey approaches Nursey at a kegster. They stand side by side, staring into the room.*  
> Unprompted, Whiskey says, "He's, like, really great at eating out, right?"  
> Nursey narrows his eyes at Whiskey. He says nothing.  
> Whiskey nods. "Cool. See ya."  
> *Whiskey wanders away. Nursey is both annoyed and oddly proud.*
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Anyway :) Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this fic as I posted it! Y'all's response made me so happy! If you want to leave anything in the comments (even just a repeat kudos) that would be much appreciated, and kudos too are of course adored. If you really wanna go the extra mile, head on over to my Tumblr and reblog [this post](http://likeshipsonthesea.tumblr.com/post/178025412690/the-arrangement-completed) to share The Arrangement now that it's finished!  
> Thanks once again for going on this ride with me! It's been so fun :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or kudo, as either would be very much appreciated!  
> I’m really excited about posting this, and I hope y’all like it. Second chapter should come sometime next week, so keep an eye out for it!


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